I am back home, feeling so much more alive than when I left. Seeing my children again was a real pleasure, and feeling better means I was able to see and respond to how neglected they felt: I have a lot of catching up to do after being an empty shell for a while…
Meanwhile, I may have solved one of the great mysteries of the universe. In fact, if anything, the solution may have been right in my face, singing and playing the trumpet all the time.
- In October and November 2010, T and I are happy enough to discuss plans for Baby Nr3 and buying a house
- From end of November to end of December, T becomes increasingly negative, depressed and distant
- Early January 2011, he informs me things are over and leaves
- Sometime between January and about a month ago, T starts seeing The New Ms T
What on earth happens between the end of November and the end of December 2010? In other words why does T suddenly turn into Distant Bastard From Hell and destroy our relationship out of nowhere, with such incredible speed and finality?
Sometime towards the end of November, T goes out with some friends one night and mentions meeting new people. I see you scratching your heads there, how is that a clue? Well, it may, or may not be a clue but I remember him mentioning how he’d met two interns in surgery, including one who was into music and he seemed particularly impressed with. Then I remember how over the ensuing month, he became fixated with Louis Armstrong, particularly A Kiss to Build a Dream On
and various other musics he would bizzarely not share with me. Before he left me, he even downloaded all my music onto his iPhone (nice touch)… Finally, I am practically certain The New Ms T is an intern in surgery.
There. Tiny, absolutely insignificant facts I paid no attention to at the time. And of course, there is a chance that they may be just that: Tiny, insignificant facts, totally unrelated to the brutal demise of our relationship.
But over the last few days, I have had a light-bulb moment, not of the struck-by-lightning category, more of the switch a low-energy lightbulb on in a dark room, stub your toe onto something hard and hop around cursing on one leg kind… And as the light gets brighter, you realise that in fact, the room you thought was empty is full of hard-lined, uncomfortable steel and glass furniture.
Of course, when he left, I asked T if he had met someone, and of course I believed him when he said no.
But the more I think about it, the more I can feel a plausible plot falling into place:
Act one, in late November, T meets this surgery intern who makes a keen impression on him, and starts day-dreaming about how green the grass would be if only he could listen to Louis Armstrong all day with someone like her … Exit the shackles of family life, enter the sweet smell of new romance, but he does not admit it even to himself.
Act two, as the fantasy takes hold, he feels guilty, and I become the embodiment of the 6ft high, barbed-wired fence standing between him and the tantalising green grass. Everything I do is wrong, everything we share is devalued, he is in full rationalisation mode in preparation for act three: After a month of building up enough resentment against me, and enough unconscious certainty that something is possible with her, he finds himself fully justified to tell me the game is up over the phone on the 1st of January.
Act four: He leaves, feeling pretty guilty, and messed up. In addition, The New Ms T and him would probably not act on their secret crush too soon, in case the uncomfortable thought it had anything to do with the breakdown of a family came haunting them.
Act five: After a couple of months of shy skirting around, and restraint, they both give into their little crush, and set off into the sunset with squeaky clean consciences. Voilà.
Maybe I should give up the day-job and become a drama writer. Next I solve the mystery of black matter…