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My Husband Asked Me to Move Out to Make Room for His Friend
My husband asked me to move out and make room for his friend.
Should I really pack my things for your mate? I wanted to pinch myself. Sam, are you sane?
He swayed in the centre of our tiny singleroom flat in the university hall, arms flailing. Where will Victor sleep? Theres only one bed. And youll feel awkward, Molly. He laughed. I cant turn Victor down, you understand! Hes a childhood pal! Weve known each other since we were kids you know the story! Just two weeks, love, two weeks!
I perched on the edge of a sofa wed bought on a threeyear hirepurchase, the fabric colour debated for two endless hours. I twirled a strand of hair around my fingera habit from childhood. Whenever I faced an important decision, Id fiddle with my hair. Mum used to say, Stop, youll go bald by thirty. Im not bald. Im thirtytwo.
In the dream I saw Sam for the first time, really. The little mole above his left brow, the new line at the corner of his mouth that appeared last year when the factory let him go. Huge hands with stubby fingers, the kind that can fix a crane and assemble a wardrobe.
Are you going to see Mum? he asked, sitting beside me, reaching for my hand, which I tucked behind my hips. Shell be over the moon. She hasnt seen you in ages. And its easier there, no queue for the shower.
Two months, I corrected automatically.
What?
Two months ago I was at Mums for her birthday in August.
Right, right Molly, why are you pushing back? Its only temporary! Victor is hunting a job in London, has nowhere to stay, and hotels cost an arm and a leg. I owe him, truly.
Sam, I whispered, and he shivered; I only used his full name on rare occasions. Tell me honestly. Is this all for Victors sake? Or have you just found an excuse to get a break from me?
He sprang from the sofa, pacing three steps forward, three steps back, as if the eighteen metres of our room were a tennis court. I watched his jittery dance, breath held, like watching a ball in midair.
No, Molly! Of course its for Victor! You think Id Id never Molly!
Then the certainty hit me: he was lying. Not about Victorhed really come, I was sure of thatbut about something else he hadnt grasped himself. I knew because his eyes darted, his neck twitched, the way he always fidgeted when he fibbed.
I lunged to the wardrobe and snatched my bag.
Youre leaving right now? Sam asked, his face a mask of astonishment.
Whats the rush? Victor arrives tomorrow, didnt you say?
Yes, but Molly, calm down! Its just two weeks!
***
Mum burst through the front door in a robe, a towel wrapped around her hair. She saw me with the bag and understood without a word. Mothers are like thatno explanation needed.
Come in, love, she said, gesturing to the kitchen. Make yourself at home.
For two weeks I lived in my little girls room, the walls still plastered with schoolday posters and photographs of classmates. It felt as if Id slipped back to when I was seventeen, life stretched out ahead. Mum asked nothing, merely prepared my favourite curried cheese scones in the mornings and served tea with jam in the evenings while we watched the telly.
Sam called constantly; I saw his missed callstwenty, thirty, fortyuntil the phone finally died, and I didnt bother charging it.
On the fifth day I ran into Lena, a former schoolmate, at a café.
Guess who I saw yesterday? she said, stirring sugar into her cappuccino. You were with some tall bloke in a leather jacket.
Thats Victor, my childhood friend, I replied automatically. Hes staying with me for a bit while Im at Mums.
Ah, I see, Lena said, giving me a strange look. A friend, then. I didnt ask anything more.
Exactly two weeks later, Sam called Mums landline, because my own phone was still switched off.
Molly, its fine, you can come back, he said, voice weary. Victors left.
Alright, I said calmly. Ill be back tomorrow.
Really? he asked, delighted. The flats a mess, you cant imagine! The fridge is empty, shirts are all wrinkled, Ive been living on instant noodles for weeks
Ill be back tomorrow, I repeated and hung up.
Mum stood in the kitchen doorway.
Returning, really? she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Yeah, for my things. Im filing for divorce, thats it. She nodded and went on preparing dinner.
Sam met me at the door, looking pale, his fiveday beard a shade of orange. The room was indeed a disasterempty bottles, cigarette ends, pizza boxes, noodle packets. The air smelled of stale spirits and something sour.
Molly, he lunged, trying to hug me, but I stepped back. Molly, its over! Lets forget it, like a bad dream! I swear Ill never bring anyone into our home again!
I walked to the wardrobe and opened the doors.
Help? he babbled, flustered. Should I carry the bag? Why is it so light, empty?
Im filing for divorce, I said, carefully folding my dresses. In a month itll be over.
He collapsed onto the floor where hed stood, folding himself in half.
Molly he whispered. Molly, is it because of two weeks? Because of Victor?
Its not because of him.
So what then?
Sam lifted his eyes to mine, bewilderment shining through, sincere confusion that made me feel a pang of pity for him.
Molly, explain! What did I do wrong? We had something good.
I zipped my bag, turned to face him. My husband sat on the floor in dirty jeans and a crumpled tee, looking as lost as a stray dog.
Sam, I said slowly, choosing my words. You asked me to leave my own home for two weeks so your friend could stay. You didnt ask, you just ordered. And the scariest part? I actually left. I walked out like a dog tossed out the door because I didnt know the right thing to do. Those two weeks I kept wonderingwill another friend come and youll throw me out again? Or will you just want some peace and send me back to Mums?
I swore Id never do that again
Its not about the promise, I interrupted. Its about you thinking you can decide that a wife should vacate the house for a mate. If I dont walk away now, Ill keep walking away every time you ask, and only return when you allow it. Im not a dog, Sam. Im a person.
His lips quivered like a child on the verge of tears.
But I love you, he whispered. Molly, I love you
I loved you too, I replied, taking my bag and heading for the door. Sell the room, give me half the deposit. I have nothing left to share with you.
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