Something Wonderful Read online

“I wish Mum and Dad were here, you know.”

  “So do I, but they’re not, but we still have each other, and I’m only ever a phone call away.”

  “Richie used to be so easy to live with, but now, it’s like I don’t know him,” I groaned, picking up my next drink.

  “He’s an overgrown baby, that’s what he is.”

  “I know and I understand because he didn’t have the same life his friends did, partying, getting pissed.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “Both of ours, Mags, but as partners go, I was lucky he stood by me. He could have shirked his responsibilities to me and Dillon, but he did his best and made something of himself.”

  “Only because Mum and Dad were around but–”

  “That’s not fair, Mags. He worked hard to provide for us, you know that. We have a gorgeous house, more money than we need, no mortgage. Whatever I feel about him now, he grafted for his family.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I’m being unfair to him. He did and does work his arse off.”

  “I just wish things were different, but we’ve drifted apart, and I can’t ever see things going back to how they used to be.”

  “You’re only thirty-two, Shell, so is he. You’ve spent over half your lives together and maybe this is the way things are meant to be. Both of you are different people now, but if you can’t find a way of moving forward, then what?”

  “I don’t think Richie has even noticed the distance between us, apart from in the bedroom…”

  “Your sex life still shit then?”

  “Worse,” I admitted. “We barely go there.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t feel like it.”

  Maggie Jane drained the rest of her glass. “Are you off sex totally, or just off sex with him?”

  I felt awful even thinking about it and gulped my drink back. “I don’t want to have sex with him.” I needed another drink. “I don’t fancy him anymore.”

  “You used to be crazy about him, Shell.”

  “I know, but we were teenagers when we got together, full of raging hormones and things that didn’t bother me about him then drive me crazy now.”

  “Such as what?”

  “Everything,” I replied. “I feel awful saying any of this, but I feel like a pressure cooker, ready to burst. We’re just not on the same wave-length and spend our time arguing.”

  “Then you need to get out while you’re young enough to start again.”

  “I have a kid, Mags.”

  “A kid who will leave home for university in the next couple of years, then what? An empty nest with only Richie for company.”

  “Oh, God.” The thought of it horrified me, but she was right. I had to address things with Richie. Our marriage was stale, and I couldn’t see a way of freshening it up. The worst part about it was; I didn’t want to freshen it up. I wanted some time to myself, to think, to decide my own destiny.

  “You’ll sort it out, in time, but whatever you decide, make sure you’re happy at the end of it.”

  Chapter Three - My Way, or the Highway

  I decided not to drink any more, having dinner to prepare, and the usual tasks that came with running a house that two lazy males inhabited.

  Instead, I hailed a taxi and went home, drinking cup after cup of strong coffee.

  My mind was a busy highway of thoughts leaving my afternoon break far less restful than I had planned. Unfortunately, the solution wasn’t going to present itself to me so easily. I had a lot of thinking to do.

  Dillon came roaring through the house like a whirlwind. It was the same performance daily.

  “MUM,” he bellowed. I’ve heard fewer annoying klaxons. “MUUUUUMMMM.” My heart felt heavy, rendering me silent and unwilling to bother dealing with him. “Oh, there you are,” he said, flouncing into the kitchen and dumping his school bag in the middle of the floor.

  “Pick up your bag and hang it up please, Dillon.”

  “You do it if it bothers you that much.”

  At that moment, my grip tightened on the meat hammer which I used to beat the braising steak for dinner. I turned and glowered, brandishing the now bloody tool. “Do you really want to argue with me right now?”

  “For fucks sake, Mum.”

  “Watch your language or I’ll rinse your mouth out with soap.”

  He sniggered. “Yeah, right.”

  And right then and there, I flipped, losing it like never before.

  I brought the hammer crashing down onto the marble work surface that cost a small fortune, causing it to crack right down the middle. “I’m warning you.”

  Dillon jumped back. The colour drained from his handsome face. “Chill, okay.”

  “Listen to me, you little parasite.” I waved the hammer, like it held the power of Thor’s Mjölnir. “There’s gonna be some new rules in this house, and if you don’t like them, you’re free to leave and make your own way in the world.”

  “I’m only sixteen.”

  “And old enough to live alone. Now pick up your bag, say what you have to say then get out of my sight.”

  “I need my shirt ironing. I’ve got a date.”

  My blood boiled. No please, or any manners as per usual.

  “Ever heard the phrase go fuck yourself?”

  His eyes almost popped out of his head. I wasn’t the type to use profanity in front of people, let alone my son.

  “Erm… no.”

  “Well congratulations, shit for brains, now you have.” I knew I was being hypocritical, but I was the adult, not him.

  “So, is that a yes or a no.”

  I picked up the slab of steak and launched it straight at him. Thankfully, it didn’t miss and landed right where I intended it to, smack bang in the centre of his face. The slapping noise echoed around the kitchen. I stifled a burst of laughter. “What do you think?”

  My anger raging as Richie entered the kitchen. “What the hell is going on in here?”

  “She’s gone mad, Dad, and broken the work surface.” He peeled the meat off his face and dropped it onto the countertop. “Look, she threw the dinner at me.”

  He stormed over to inspect the damage. “Do you know how much those work surfaces cost, Michelle?”

  I picked up the hammer again and waved it at him.

  “One more word, Richie, and this hammer is going up your fucking arse, sideways.”

  He knew me well enough not to mess with me.

  “Come on, Dillon. We’ll go out for pizza.”

  “I can’t, Dad, I’ve got a date with Sharilyn.”

  He was in for a rude awakening. “Not on a school night you haven’t. Dinner, homework, then bed–got it?”

  “Dad,” he pleaded.

  “Shell. Come off it. The lad has a date–”

  “He isn’t going on any date, end of.”

  “I am,” Dillon argued.

  “You walk out this door, and it gets locked. You can sleep in the garden and I’m not joking either.”

  “Dad.” He pulled the usual sulky face that would more often than not get him his own way where his father was concerned. “Tell her.”

  “I’m warning you, Dillon.”

  “Don’t push it…” Richie bit his bottom lip. He was spineless when it came to authority which is why our son was a complete dick head. “…not tonight, son. You can see Sharilyn at the weekend and your mum will have shaken off the attitude by then.”

  I wanted to slap him with a slab of steak.

  “But I promised to take her to the cinema.” He whined like a small child. “Please, Dad, just let me.”

  “I’d listen to your father, Dillon.” I wasn’t going to back down, not this time, not after he claimed my attitude held a time stamp. “He’s talking sense for once, but if you want to disobey me, go for your life...” I grinned, teetering on the edge of victory. It felt good. “… but when you return from your date, your bags will be on the doorstep along with his.”

  “My bags?” Ric
hie’s eyes widened with shock. “What do you mean by that?”

  “That’s right,” I snapped. “Your bags. They’re in the hallway closet. Get them and get out.” I’d had a burst of courage when I returned home, packing some of his belongings, intending to confront him and demand some space. But upon reflection, changed my mind, putting it off for another day. He just made it too easy for me.

  “This is my fucking house. I’m not going anywhere, you mad cow.”

  I brought the hammer down again, this time on another work surface. He flinched, probably calculating repair costs, and Dillon jumped again, as jagged cracks appeared. “Do you really want to argue that point right now?” I arched my eyebrow and gave him the look he hated so much. “I want you out of this house, and maybe, just maybe, when you have some respect for me, you can come back, but don’t hold your breath.”

  “I’m coming with you, Dad.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Dillon.” He was going to love this. “You’re staying here where I can keep my eye on you, end of.”

  “Tell her, Dad.”

  “Your mother is right, son. I’ll book a hotel until she calms down.”

  “Then you better ask for a multiple night stay discount.”

  “Dad, please.”

  “Dillon,” I roared, losing my patience with him. “Get upstairs and do your homework now, or I’ll use this hammer on your phone, then, I’ll move onto your PlayStation.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Dillon, don’t make me tell you again.” I yelled louder than I had intended to. “If you think I’m angry now, carry on disregarding me and you’ll–”

  “Go on, Son, do as your mother says.” Richie cut across me, obviously trying to diffuse the tension.

  Dillon made to leave the kitchen, but I hadn’t finished with him just yet. “Oh, and before you go… two more things.”

  “What now?”

  “No more cigarettes and no smoking weed in my house, or in the shed. And that goes for the pair of you.”

  “But Dad said I could smoke in my own bedroom…”

  “I don’t care what he said, but ignore my request at your own peril, Dillon.” I stepped closer to him. “If I find out you’ve been smoking in this house, or doing drugs, God help you.”

  He looked at his father, that same pleading look he always used when he wanted his own way.

  “Leave it for now, son,” Richie warned. “You’re not gonna win this argument, not tonight.”

  “Wrong!” I yelled at Richie. “He won’t win this argument, EVER!”

  “Alright, mouthy almighty, you’ve had your say and now it’s my–“

  He wasn’t going to ride roughshod over me this time. “Thanks mainly to you, our son has gotten away with his shitty attitude for far too long and now I’m taking back control, or he’s following you out the door.”

  “I’m not staying here with her.” He pointed right at me.

  “Dillon, go to your room and do as you’re told,” Richie said. He wasn’t going to overrule me this time.

  “Do as your father says.”

  He stood there, mute, his eyes narrow slits; that same look he used to have as a child, wondering whether it was prudent to argue with me any further.

  “Now,” I yelled.

  “Go on, son.”

  “I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

  “I’m eating it in my room.”

  “Erm, no you’re not,” I stated. “You can eat at the dinner table, or at the breakfast bar.”

  He looked to Richie again. Let him dare try and overrule me.

  “Go on,” Richie urged again. “Do what your mum says.”

  “Oh, and one more thing before you go.”

  Dillon glared at me. “For fuck’s sake–what now?”

  “I was intending to ground you for a month for the shitty attitude but for the foul language, let’s make it two shall we. Get your bedroom cleaned and sparkling by tomorrow morning or I’ll make it three.”

  “Woah. Hang on a minute, Shell,” Richie chimed in. “That’s a little bit excessive, don’t you think?”

  “Keep your mouth shut, Richie, and get out.”

  I marched across the room and grabbed his keys from the work surface. Taking the house keys off the ring, I threw the rest to him.

  “Hang on a minute, they’re my house keys.”

  “You won’t be needing them for now, and while we’re on the subject of keys…” I held my hand out palm up. “…I’ll have yours too, Dillon. You won’t be coming and going at all hours, not anymore. Straight in from school, and in this house you will stay.”

  Dillon dropped his keys onto the table and stormed out.

  I yelled after him. “Lose the attitude, brat.”

  “Stop treating me like a child…” he shouted back. “…and I will.”

  I raised my voice. “I’ll stop treating you like a child when you bloody well grow up.”

  Thirty seconds later, Dillon’s bedroom door slammed shut.

  “You need to get to your GP and sort yourself out. We shouldn’t have to put up with this because you’re going into the menopause.”

  “Menopause,” I shrieked. “Is that what you really think?” At thirty-two, I wasn’t going through the menopause.

  “Why else are you never interested in having sex?”

  I laughed. “Oh, I am interested in sex, just not with you.”

  Richie’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. “Like that is it?”

  “What do you think needle dick?”

  “Fuck you.” He stormed out of the kitchen. “Stupid fucking wench.” I heard him grab his bags and a few seconds later the door slammed shut.

  “Good riddance,” I said.

  A strange calm washed over the house.

  If only I’d known dealing with the pair of them was going to be this easy, I’d have done it years ago.

  Still, guilt forced its way into my mind. It always did which is why both found it so easy to ride roughshod over me.

  Nevertheless, I didn’t want to be this woman; the one yelling, shrieking, making demands, but my own weakness had turned and kicked me up the arse and forced me to take a stand.

  My inner voice nagged at me. What’s done is done.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I retrieved the steak, ran it under the tap. I’d make sure that was Dillon’s piece.

  After dinner, I asked Dillon to stack the dishwasher. The rest of the kitchen left clean and tidy before we ate. He didn’t dare argue, but quietly seethed at what he considered manual labour. Chuckling to myself, he better get used to it as this was his new job, seven days a week.

  He would also be responsible for taking the rubbish out, hoovering throughout the house and mowing the lawns–he just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Four - A Brand New Me

  I’d cooked a simple but delicious stew, washed down with a few glasses of red wine.

  Dillon and I had eaten in silence, but I didn’t care. I was the adult, not him, and the sooner he got to grips with that, the better life would be for both of us.

  He performed his chores and sauntered back to his room, working on his studies. I knew he needed a firmer hand but this new Gestapo routine I’d adopted hurt my heart more than my son would ever realise.

  I rubbed my stomach, feeling uncomfortable. Greedily, I’d eaten far too much and was now paying the price. It was one of my many failings; never knowing when enough was enough.

  Letting out a belch, then feeling disgusted with myself, I plonked my arse on the sofa and called Maggie Jane, excited to share my news.

  “Oh, myyyyyy God. You’re kidding…” She squealed with delight when I regaled her with the rest of the tale, steak slap and all. “I’m so proud of you, Shell.”

  “I should have done it years ago.”

  “And how’s the Spawn of Satan taking this new regime of yours?”

  “He’s not doing cartwheels that’s for sure, but I don’t care
–he can like it or lump it.”

  “Good for you.” She laughed and the snaps from her palms clapping together rang through the receiver. Her delirious happiness forced a grin upon my face. I felt elated. “Last night, I slept right through for the first time in years. I was stretched out in that big bed like a starfish and felt wonderful this morning, just like my old self.”

  “About time,” she replied.

  “Richie’s only just gone, but the thought of him coming back horrifies me.”

  “He’s not going to stay in that hotel forever.”

  “Then he might have to find somewhere to rent.”

  “Really–you don’t think your relationship can be mended?”

  “I think I want a divorce, Mags.” For the first time not only did I speak of divorce aloud, but I meant every word. The future I envisioned today included only me and Dillon. The long drift apart proved our differences too great and now our worlds rarely collided. I didn’t blame him as we were teenagers when we met. Now we’re in our early thirties, different people, it could happen to any couple. The one thing that did make me sad was my son having divorced parents. It was never something I wanted for him, but he was sixteen and would make his own way in the world soon enough.

  “Wow.”

  “I didn’t realise how much I hated living with him until he was finally gone.”

  “What will you say to Dillon?”

  “He can stay, under my rules, or go and live with his father, although something tells me Richie wouldn’t want a demanding teenager cramping his style.”

  “Shall I come over?”

  “That’d be nice. It’s been a while since you were last here.”

  “I never wanted to make things awkward for you in your own home with me and Richie constantly sparring.”

  “Well, he’s gone now so come over and stop at the supermarket on the way. I need vodka and plenty of it.”

  “You got it.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Maggie Jane said. “There’s somebody on the other line.”

  While I waited, I noticed my chipped nails and decided to book myself in for a manicure at the earliest opportunity. I didn’t want to let myself go; in fact, I wanted to look as good as I could. That would be one in the eye for Richie.