‘Why?’
‘Well, it makes having conversations a bit easier, I suppose,’ she says.
‘What did you and Jamie talk about?’
‘Lots of things. Life. His business. Current affairs.’
The truth is that conversations with Jamie had entered drought status months ago. Their interactions revolved around whether there was milk in the fridge, what they fancied for supper and if Jamie was going to the gym. Occasionally they’d branch out into discussing Headplace. Jamie would ask Amy for an opinion on a logo; she’d choose her favourite and he’d choose anything but her favourite. She’d learnt long ago not to bring up her own work. His standard response would be, ‘I’m not sure, Piglet. Just do what you gotta do,’ which didn’t even make sense half the time. He hadn’t always been like that. At the start, he was involved. Interested. He helped her with her CV, he put feelers out for contract work, he even read some of her copy and showered her with praise. But after a year of investing in the effort, he could sit back and relax. He’d caught her. She was going nowhere at her age, and he knew it.
‘Amy?’ Dr Hicks leans forward.
‘Yes, sorry?’ She blinks, coming back into the room.
‘I said, did you ever talk about your relationship?’
‘Sometimes,’ She responds. Never.
‘And when you did, what did you talk about? Can you give me an example?’
‘He gave me a key to his flat recently, and told me I could come and go as I pleased,’ she says. ‘Well, as long as I gave him some notice.’
Dr Hicks stares at her.
Yes, thank you. I realise how stupid that sounds now. But the key proved our relationship was serious. You don’t give someone a key if you’re about to break up with them.
‘And did you talk about what the key meant for your relationship?’
‘No, I didn’t think we needed to. It was symbolic.’
‘Did you ever discuss your future?’ he asks. ‘Marriage, kids, that kind of thing?’
He did refer to her as ‘wifey’ once when she went through a phase of packing their lunches. She wasn’t doing it to be ‘wifey’, she was doing it to save money. The comment had both irritated and pleased her. Irritated her for making her feel servile, and pleased her because he was thinking about her like that. And then she was irritated with herself for feeling pleased.
You can’t say that in front of the cameras. You will look like such a moron.
‘He called me “wifey” once,’ she says.
Oh, Amy.
Dr Hicks stares at her again.
She sighs and rubs under her eyes, conscious of the mascara smears on her cheeks.
‘No, not really. Sorry, it’s quite hard to think of examples on the spot when I’m being watched. I need more time. I need a break.’
‘OK, Amy. I think that’s enough for now.’
‘That’s what I just said.’
He picks up the iPad and starts tapping, leaving Amy to wonder if she has to apologise to anyone. She doesn’t think she’s said anything offensive, but she should probably apologise for being such a blubbering mess.
‘I have some homework for you. I’d like you to work on it before our next session in a week.’ Dr Hicks stands up and walks over to a printer on the other side of the room.
Amy looks at what he’s wearing from behind. Brown cardigan. Brown cords. Brown loafers. His clothes are worn and his few remaining tufts of hair are unkempt. He must be in his late fifties. No wedding ring, but then not all men wear them.
‘I can’t believe Pete wears a wedding ring,’ Jamie had said, laughing as they clambered into a taxi after leaving a supper at Jane’s last year – the last supper they’d been to as a couple. ‘How pussy-whipped is he?’
Amy hated that expression, and had asked Jamie before not to use it.
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ replied Amy, feeling her toes curl.
‘Women wear rings. Real men wear Rolexes.’ He raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin in the look that said, ‘You’re so silly’. Amy had a love-hate relationship with that look. It was so arrogant. Why did she find it so sexy?
‘Real men shouldn’t be worried about whether they look like real men,’ she replied, gazing out of the taxi window at the raindrops racing across the glass. ‘They should wear what they like. I just think if women wear wedding rings, it makes no sense for men not to.’
‘Since when did you become such a little feminist?’ he said. ‘Is pocket-rocket Piglet on a mission to smash the patriarchy?’
‘No.’ She was getting goosebumps. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was making her skin crawl or because he was kissing her neck. ‘Piglet’s on a mission to prove that you’re a sexist pig.’
Then he’d oinked into her ear, making her laugh and ending the conversation.
How could she have let a comment like that pass? When did she become so sloppy with her standards? What had happened to her? Twenties Amy would have stopped the cab, hopped out and skipped off, confidently telling him never to call her again. What happened was that she hit thirty and found The Fear. The fear of not finding The One. And if she didn’t want to die alone, she’d have to accept unacceptable behaviour.
The printer hums into action and breaks her train of thought. Dr Hicks returns to his seat with a single sheet of A4 paper and three questions on it.
Amy Wright, Day Four,
Session One: homework
When did Jamie make you feel happy in your relationship?
When did Jamie make you feel unhappy in your relationship?
Name what you need to feel happy in a relationship.
Amy reads the list of questions, as Dr Hicks hands her a pen.
‘We’ll discuss your responses next week.’ He takes a seat and starts clicking on the iPad again. ‘Goodbye, Amy. Good luck with the baby.’
‘Thanks,’ she says, as she stands up and all the tissue bits scatter across the floor.
Ten
‘YOU CAN HAVE HIM BACK NOW!’ shouts Jackie from behind fake-baby Ben’s moon head, with his glassy eyes and a mouth that’s covered in crust.
‘Where’s yours?’ asks Amy, amused, grabbing him and holding him at arm’s length.
He stinks.
‘Under a blanket where she can’t be seen, heard or smelt!’ Jackie tuts, walking away. ‘Why the fuck you’d ever want a baby in real life is beyond me! Do you hear me, Aaron? Why would you want to live this fucking nightmare?’
Jackie slumps onto the sofa and lets out a big sigh.
‘Don’t tell me you want one of these?’ she asks Amy.
‘I do. One day. I’m an only child, so I always thought that having a family would be fun.’
‘Ah.’ Jackie raises her hand for a high five. ‘I’m in the Only Child Club, too. Did Jamie ever use it against you? Aaron always said I had “only child syndrome”. Which meant I was selfish and spoilt. Apparently, I don’t care about anyone else except me and my dad.’
‘Jamie used to tell me I had only child syndrome because I was needy, which wasn’t true at all. I think he just wanted something to use against me. Did your parents spoil you? I feel like mine did, a bit.’