‘We need to talk!’
Part 1
‘We moeten praten,’ is a semi-autobiographical story about desperate sorrow and loss, about being abandoned and being deceived; in short, a story about a marriage that is doomed to fail. It is also a story about picking oneself up, starting over, making mistakes and committing errors, falling down and ultimately about healing. Anyone who has ever suffered from a broken heart due to lost love will be able to recognize themselves in the story and draw comfort from it. Because although no two separations are the same, the struggles and the sorrow are indeed universal.
It is January 4th when he finally brings it up. It is also my father's birthday and for that reason alone a date to never forget. During the holidays, my husband Hugo and I were on a winter sports trip with our daughter Chrissy and our friends Walter and Sammy and their little boy Beer. Just like we had done every year before with them; a fixed ritual of always having snow at Christmas and always dancing into the new year. With that white Christmas, it had turned out well again this year. But there was also something that was very different from usual and that had been gnawing at me throughout the holiday.
‘When are you going to say you love me again?’ I asked Hugo after an evening of cheese fondue on the mountain. I had crawled up to him on the uncomfortable couch in our apartment.
‘I love you,’ he had replied. The tone was flat and he didn’t make any effort to make his words believable.
On January 4th, we drive back home – a long journey filled with painful silences, awkward coughs, long traffic jams, and evasive glances. I’ve been sensing for a while now that something is not right between us. And I have indeed asked him several times if there is something going on with him. But no, there isn’t.
When the car is unpacked, it’s already close to midnight. Our daughter Chrissy, who had dozed off at her iPad during the last stop at McDrive, sleepily stumbles to the couch in the living room where she wants to sleep further. I pull her up and help her up the stairs to her bedroom. The cat, who had been watching the house, is sleeping on her bed.
‘Look at Teddy. She has already warmed up your bed.’ Teddy jumps off the bed and leans against my ankle to give me a nuzzle. I pick her up and press her against my chest.
‘Goodbye sweet Teddy.’ Then I lay her purring back down with Chrissy on the bed.
‘Do we not have to brush our teeth?’
‘We do not have to brush our teeth.’
An undefined feeling drives me back downstairs where I hear Hugo locking the front door to signal that the car has been unloaded. When I see him walking to the fridge to open a bottle of wine, I know it and immediately feel the knot in my stomach. It is the knot that signifies disaster.
‘We need to talk,’ he says as he unsolicitedly hands me a full glass of white wine. ‘And it’s not going to be a pleasant conversation,’ he quickly adds. If I could, I would freeze time so I wouldn’t have to hear the inevitable. And then he says it anyway.
‘I can’t do this anymore, I don’t want this anymore. I need time Britt. Time for myself and to figure out if I still want this. I’m leaving you Britt. Before the vacation, I was already looking for an apartment. I’ve decided to rent it. But for now, you can still live here with Chrissy. At least until I figure things out. I promise you that I will do everything to be a good father to Chrissy. I have to do this. I’m really sorry for you but I can’t help it.’
My head feels strangely dull and the knot has almost crawled high enough to make my stomach turn. I down the wine in one gulp. Am I dreaming this or is this real? I look at my jeans. Right by my knee is a stain from the cheese sandwich I bought at the first rest area and struggled to eat. I move my toes in my big shoes that I bought to trudge through the snow. I lift the fingers of my right hand – the hand with the wedding ring on the ring finger. And then I finally dare to look up at him.
‘Is there someone else?’ While he cowardly remains silent, he turns his body half away from me. With a voice that strangely rises in pitch, I yell for him to look at me.
‘Goddammit Hugo, don’t do this to me. Look at me. Say it! Is there someone else?’ He denies it. Stands up to pour another glass and says he’s tired from the trip.
‘Let’s just go to sleep,’ he then says as if that’s even an option. Very quietly, I lie next to him a little later. As long as he is here, he is nowhere else and we are still together. Only when his breathing becomes regular and slows down do I dare to shift a little closer to him. Just far enough to feel his warmth but not far enough to calm the knot in my stomach.
