I put the plug in the bath, and ran the hot water. It was all in place.
My wine glass full, the wine a deep dark red. The bottle placed on the toilet seat lid next to the glass and the razor blade.
My note which I had written, so many times in my head, but actually only once in ink. As when I tried to follow what my head was saying I found I couldn’t. So it came from the heart.
I placed it on the kitchen worktop, propped up next to the bread bin. Addressed to no one, but there were who ever came in could see it first.
I had stupidly put the garbage out, emptied the fridge of its contents, and made a strange list of who I want to have my prize designer shoe collection. Well some of them have never been worn and were still in the boxes.
I had filled two carrier bags with photos, photos of Adam and I. Happy times. Memories that I wont remember. But not sure that he would want them really, not now.
I turned off the hot water, testing the water with my elbow, and ran the cold. Swishing the water around the bath, trying to cool it down just a touch.
Then poured half a bottle of my favourite bath oil in, watching the bubbles bounce and grow instantly. The sweet smell circling around me, comforting in its own familiar way.
Hell, I may as well pour the whole bottle in, not like anybody else is ever going to use it. So I do. Extravaganse I would'nt normally do.
When the temperature is just right I turn off the tap. Take off my gown, dropping it to the floor, and toe first test the water.
I step in and sit down feeling the calm warm water enveloping me. It feels so nice. One of the simple pleasures of life, a hot bath and a glass of wine. I pick up my glass and take a huge sip, feeling it warming through my veins almost immediately.
Putting the glass on the side of the bath I lie back and close my eyes. Just drifting for a moment, thinking back. Thinking back to that moment. The day he told me. The day he left for good.
‘I’m sorry Jo’ He has said.
I didn’t say anything, just stood there frozen in the door. I had literally just come walked through the door, to find Adams bags by the front door. He was in the bedroom, throwing his clothes quickly in to bin bags, carrier bags anything that he could find in the house.
His face said it all, as I stood in the bedroom door.
I didn’t even have to ask him ‘what was going on?’, as I already knew.
I knew that she was having his baby. And from one stupid mistake, it should have been mine.
I knew that it was all that he had wanted more than anything else in the world.
We had been trying for a baby of our own, for the last six months or so. But much to the pleasure of all the practising it just wasn’t happening. Every month we would wait patiently. To be then so disappointed when my period came.
Adam had said don’t worry, there is always next month, but I think he was secretly crying, upset. As he had wanted this more than anything.
More than he had wanted me. I had thought at times. As he had planned schedules, charts with times. Working out all the details. The best times to conceive. That was how much he had wanted it. And as my mother had said, it showed dedication of his love.
But that he certainly wasn’t. He could'nt have been, or else he would be here now, and my life wouldn't be ending this way.
As one night when we had that row. Over something so stupid I can’t even remember what now. He stormed out of the house and into the arms of my best friend.
He hadn’t meant to fall into her arms and I don’t for one minute think it happened like that either.
She happened to be in the bar when he walked in. Sitting there and drowning her sorrows over the her latest guy in tow. Or not as it may happened.
Melanie was a man eater at the best of times, but I always had the impression that deep down she was just looking for the right guy to settle down with. She had a habit of making me feel uneasy when she was around Adam too. As she would flirt and joke way beyond the boundaries and then tell me that it's all just good fun.
But something in her laugh told me it wasn’t.
He had gotten drunk, quite so by all accounts. From what she told me the next day. The guilt eating into her as she had said. Tearing her apart all morning.She couldn't wait to tell me.
I think now that it was just a matter of time, as she had had it planned.But she just didn’t know when she would hit the jackpot.
And now she had, double whammy.
At first we had rowed like crazy. Then not speaking for days.
We agreed that it was a slip-up. On his part. And that we would do our best not to let go of the last five years we had had together. But work through this.
All was going ok, well so I thought. Until she turned up on the doorstep.
Crying late at night. Telling me that she was pregnant and that Adam was the father.
It had hit me like a ten ton brick in the face. I don’t think I could have felt any worse if she had hit me in the face, full on and hard. It took us both by surprise.
But more myself, when Adam had said that whatever happened he would stand by her. Whatever, Whatever did that mean?
The words that I thought I wouldn’t hear.
It was unspoken of for a short time, a few weeks passed and we hardly mentioned it, barely speaking to each other. But then I wasn’t talking to her, Melanie either. I didn’t want to know any of it.
But she had been in contact with Adam and he hadn’t told me.
They had met for lunch on more than one occasion. They had drinks after work, and I think the longer it went on the more it became.
We hardly had sex anymore, and when we did it had become such a chore. I loved him with all my heart and he was slowly breaking it with her help.
Three months had passed. she had her first scan. Which I hadn’t known Adam had attended. I think that was what got to him.
At first it was a case of will she keep it or not, but now it was more birthing pools and where she should move too. As she lived in a small one bedroom apartment on the west side.
Compared to our blissful relationship, it sure sucked, as she so used to joke with me and the girls prior to this.
She had hardly seen any of the girls since this happened, as I think they were slowly turning their backs on her as much as she was distancing herself too. It was a case of out of sight out of mind I think.
Then she had a scare, and she called in the middle of the night.
‘She needed Adam now!’ she had said as I answered the phone. No one else would do at two am, she was bleeding. He kissed me on the cheek, jumping out of bed with such urgency and rushing to her side. But it was nothing to worry about. Everything was ok, the baby alright. This brought them closer together.
He was after all as he said ‘the babies father’.
How I hated that. How I now hate it all.
The anger and jealousy building up inside me eating away at my insides. He did little or nothing to calm me, or soothe my mind as it worked over time when he was late home, or when he didn’t answer my call. I had become the obsessive and hysterical woman.
He told me on one or more occasions.
I knew when I left for work that morning that he would be leaving me soon.
She was due her 20 week scan soon, and growing bigger day by day. She had swapped her sports car for a more baby friendly car. He had even marked the calendar with her due dates too. It was slipping out of my hands, getting out of control and there was nothing I could do.
I watch and listened to him as he grew more animated, excited by the prospect of the birth of his child. All the things that I had hoped for with him. Where did it leave me? I wondered. No where. Right here on the sidelines. Watching and waiting with anticipated breathe.
‘I love her, Jo’ he said.
‘But not in the way I love you’ he added. And then more and less left after a few exchanged words.
He would be by to pick up the rest of his things. Sometime soon, or maybe one of his friends would pick them up.
‘But ‘she needs me’ he said.
‘Its my baby’ his words echoing in my head. As if I didn’t need reminding.
That was yesterday, I slept fitful last night thinking about what I could do. Spoke to all my girlfriends on the phone, crying, breaking my heart. It was a pain like I never knew before.
I drank a bottle of wine and a half at 6 am this morning and then slept till 4 pm this afternoon.
When I woke up I knew what I had to do.
My baby he wouldn’t know. The test two days before had confirmed my fears. All I had hoped for and now it was too late.
‘What would he do now?’ I thought.
I picked my wine glass up from the side and downed the rest of the glass in one.
Then picked the razor up from on top of the toilet.
Turning it over in my hand. I could see no way out.
I loved him and it hurt so much. But now he didn’t want me.
I took the razor and traced a fine line across my wrist first. Imagining the cut. Feeling the wine fill my blood, making my head whoozie.
Clearing my mind of all thoughts.
I traced the razor again over my wrist, but this time applying pressure.
The first cut hurt the most, as I drew it across my wrist.
I sucked in my breathe. The pain sweeping through me and somehow the relief.
How mad does that sound, as I watch my blood drip into the bath, my arm leaning on the side.
My blood dripping into the water and emerging in it. Sliced through the skin on my other wrist, before I changed my mind, and quickly poured another glass of wine.
Downing it in one, and then pouring another.
And then lay back down, watching my blood drip into the bath, changing the colour of the bath from clear to a pale pink.
Slowly closing my eyes as my sleep washed over me.