The Half That You See Rebecca Rowland (smart books to read txt) 📖

her text messages, but I think she’s wiping them. She’s distracted, too—even more so than usual. I hope I’m wrong.

“There’s a load of washing to go in. And don’t forget to empty the trash, okay?”

“Okay, love,” I reply.

“Mustn’t forget the trash,” Jed chips in, waving his finger.

I haven’t slept for weeks, my mind a simmering pot of anxiety and jealously. Perhaps, I’m just paranoid. Regardless, I feel like I’m slipping—back to the darker times.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll be back. Don’t wait up,” she says.

“Behave yourself!” Jed shouts just as the door slams, holding his middle finger in the air.

“Shut up, Jed,” I hiss, watching her down the path.

“Why do you let her speak to you like that?” he says. “Ordering you about while she goes out gallivanting. I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“I love her,” I say, arching my neck to watch her step into the taxi. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

He’s not been around in months, and quite frankly, that was just fine with me. He’s rocking in the chair, legs tapping frantically. He’s agitated.

“What’s wrong with you, anyway?” I ask.

“Bored. Hey, want to get wasted?”

“I’ve been sober for months, Jed. The last time you were here was the last time I had a drink. And we both know how that ended.”

“Come on, just a little one,” he says, reaching behind his back and pulling out the bottle of golden liquid. “She’s out having fun, why can’t we have a little drinky?”

“Haven’t you got anywhere else to go?”

“Don’t be like that, Paul.” He twists off the cap, making a big deal of holding the neck of the bottle near his nostrils and inhaling deeply. “Ah, that smells so fine.”

“Jed, I’d like you to leave. I’m not really in—”

But the bottle’s already on the table in front of me.

“Go on, Paul. It will help you relax a little, take the edge off.”

“I promised her, Jed; said I would never drink again. She said she would leave me if—”

“She really has got you by the balls, hasn’t she? How is all that obedience working out for you anyway? Whose fucking life are you living, for Christ’s sake?”

I push myself from the chair and walk around the room, pausing at the mirror above the fireplace. In the subdued light, the dark circles are emphasized further. I hardly recognise myself.

“Look what she’s doing to you. You look like shit!” he says.

“And what’s your excuse, Jed?” I snap. “Anyway, what do you know about it? I’ve not seen you in over a year! You don’t know anything.”

“I know you, Paul. How far do we go back? This isn’t you. You’ve lost your spark; she’s sucking you dry, and not in a good way!”

“Look, can you just fuck off, please.”

“One drink, then I’ll go; you have my word. For old times’ sake, come on, share a drink with me.”

I just want him gone now. I want to wallow in self-pity and worthlessness, and he’s fucking it all up.

“One drink, but we do it the civilized way,” I say, marching quickly through to the kitchen.

He claps his hands together. “That’s the way, Pauly.”

I collect two tumblers from the cupboard and fill each half full of ice. As I shut the refrigerator door, I study the three lopsided photographs of our beaming faces. They were taken five years ago on holiday; none have been added since. A wide smile is stretched across Jac’s face; she looks so happy. But how do you ever truly know?

The sound of whisky filling the glass is heavenly, and even without taking a sip, I can feel its warm blanket already wrapping around, protecting me. The ice begins to gently crack, and its melody is hauntingly beautiful.

“To old times,” I say, lifting the glass.

“To old times,” Jed repeats.

I pick up the glass and smell the whisky; it prompts a shudder, like being in a place you know you shouldn’t be. As I swirl the golden liquid around the glass, thoughts rush through my head, most of them telling me this is a bad idea. But I take the first sip, and almost immediately, my mouth is a network of hot prickles. My gums begin to tingle. I swirl it around, enjoying the sensation before swallowing. It’s so good—smooth and balanced—evoking just the right amount of burn as it slides down. Already, it’s dissolving the knot in my stomach, freeing me of all of it. I take another sip, and it begins to drown out the thoughts, turning down their volume.

Jed smacks his lips together. “A fine drop, isn’t it?” he says. His leg has stopped shaking, the whisky no doubt working its magic.

“It is good,” I concede.

“Refill?” he asks, resting the neck of the bottle against my glass.

“We said just the one, Jed.” But we both know the words are merely a formality, a half-hearted objection that is already forgotten.

He fills the glass and smirks his smirk. “Why don’t you just leave her?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“It could be you and me again, just like old times. She’s stifling you, got you wrapped around her little finger. She’d be better off with a little lapdog.”

“It’s just a rough patch.” There, I said it. “We’ll work it out.”

“Oh yeah, I bet she’s working it out right now—talking to all the fellas about how much she wants to work on her marriage. Even with her mouth stuffed full of cocks, I bet she won’t stop harping on about how much harder she’s going to try.”

I scowl at him before knocking back the whisky and crunching down on the ice. “I hate you, Jed!”

“Just jesting.” He pours himself a glass and knocks it back. “Another?”

“Yes,” I reply. “We’ve been happy. Before.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen it,” he replies, slouching back into the leather and taking another generous sip. “All the time I’ve known you, it’s been like this. You used to be fun; now look at you. You’re a shadow of yourself.”

“I don’t want to lose her.”

“Never mind her, Paul. You’re losing yourself.