Nothing Fits
By Laura Besley
WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
Russel told me a couple of days ago that we were going out for dinner for my birthday – he knows I don’ t like surprises – but I haven’ t had the time or energy to shop for a new outfit. I’ ve had a shower, done my hair and makeup in record time since putting the twins to bed at seven, but fifteen minutes later I’ m still standing in front of the wardrobe trying to decide what to wear.‘ Are you ready?’ Russel yells. I run down the stairs.‘ Are you trying to wake them up?’‘ You’ re still in your dressing gown.’ He’ s dressed in smart black jeans and a checked shirt I bought him for his birthday a couple months ago. Both boys were screaming in the buggy as I waited to pay for it.‘ I can’ t decide what to wear. Nothing nice fits anymore.’‘ It doesn’ t matter what you wear.’ I’ m blinking away the tears.‘ It matters to me.’‘ Catherine. That’ s not what I meant.’ The doorbell rings.‘ Blimey! Is everyone determined to wake them up?’‘ It’ ll be my mum.’‘ Just go and answer the door before she rings the bell again.’ Tiptoeing back into the bedroom I mutter to myself, don’ t cry, don’ t fight. This has been my mantra since the boys were born six months ago. It doesn’ t always work. Finally, I pull on a pair of loose black trousers( not at all flattering) and a pink cashmere jumper which is stretched almost out of shape across my swollen body.
‘ Hello dear,’ my mother-in-law says.‘ You look, uhm, nice.’ Russel will have asked her to say something. She wouldn’ t normally notice if you walk in the room with a tea cosy on your head. I manage a half-smile.‘ Thanks.’‘ C’ mon, let’ s go.’ Russel is comically hopping from foot to foot.‘ We don’ t get out nearly as much as we used to. We need to make the most of it.’‘ I’ ll be lucky if I don’ t fall asleep during dinner.’‘ Not a chance.’ He waggles his eyebrows up and down and just for a moment I remember the Russel I used to know. The Russel I fell in love with. Before his face was buried under tiredness and worry and stress.
*** Holding our menus open to placate the hovering waiters, neither of us can decide whether we want to order a dessert.‘ Dinner was lovely,’ I say.‘ It was nice to go out.’‘ Wasn’ t it?’ He hands me a card.‘ Your present’ s inside.’ I carefully prise the envelope open. The card says“ Happy Birthday to my Beautiful Wife”. A sob escapes. I open the card and a voucher falls out. I read it two or three times.‘ A gym membership? You’ ve bought me a gym membership for my birthday?’
21 | May 2016