Moving On

‘I gave you everything’

She tried but she couldn’t hide the slight tremor in her voice. It made her lower her head. She halved a breadcrumb on the table with her thumbnail, and then flicked it away. She picked up her glass and gripped it like a microphone.

He studied her face. He could read it perfectly, but always found something new written upon it. He considered his reply.

‘You gave me no more than you wanted to give.’

‘But you gave me nothing!’

Her retort was angry, sharp. Even as it left her lips she was sure it wasn’t entirely true. She replaced the words with a mouthful of wine. It followed what she had already drunk and went straight to her head.

‘I gave you everything I could give.’ His reply was gentle and yet weary. This was not a new conversation.

She thought about what he had said and felt locked down by it. She shook her head as if freeing herself to speak. ‘It wasn’t enough.’

‘Yet it was more than you expected, more than you hoped.’ He paused. It sounded defensive, and yet it wasn’t a defence. ‘It was more than I ever promised,” he whispered, carefully blunting a wooden cocktail stick into his plate

There was a long silence. The tension was palpable and seemed to fill the restaurant. It kept the waitress away.

‘I need you,’ she told him, her soul laid bare.

‘I am here.’

‘No.’ She spoke with absolute certainty. ’You are never here.’