Crying in the Rain (Hiding Behind The Couch Character and Festive Episodes)

21 Time

Kris

“M orning !” K ris walked straight past Shaunna, dressed for work, to the back door to let Casper out. Shaunna grunted and added more water to the kettle, frowning at Kris because he would usually either be walking the dog by now or have left for the studio. He smiled and gave her a wide berth. She was much more human once she’d had her first cup of tea. Until then, it was best not to get too close or too chatty.

“Sleep well?” she asked.

“I did. You?”

“Yes, thank you.”

After twenty years, he was well used to the forced politeness. There were times he’d wondered how he and Krissi had made it out of the house alive, especially when Krissi was in her teens and seemed to think taking her mother on before school was a good idea. Other than that, she hadn’t been too much trouble as a teenager, but like any dad, he missed the little girl who’d depended on him for everything.

Glancing around the kitchen, he could still see ten-year-old Krissi on the day they’d picked up the keys, opening all the cupboards and telling them exactly where everything should go. She’d mostly got her own way too. Now she’d left home, and her bedroom was Kris’s, but despite having replaced all her furniture with his own, every night it had felt like he was sleeping in the spare room—proverbially, as they didn’t have one—waiting for the dust to settle on an argument. Every night until last night.

“What’re you doing?” Shaunna asked .

Kris shrugged. “Thinking about when we moved in here.”

“OK.” She narrowed her eyes, rightly suspicious that he was only telling her half the story. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only just woken up.”

“Really? Kris Johansson, always up with the lark, thinks he can waylay his long-suffering estranged wife with ‘I’ve only just woken up’?”

“It’s true. Ade’s still out for the count. I’m not sure whether I should disturb him or let him sleep.”

“Presumably, you’re staying off today?”

“There was nothing on the schedule, and I want to be here when the mechanic calls.”

“Ah, yeah. Good point. So what were you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” Kris chose that moment to refill the dog’s water bowl and make his breakfast—anything to avoid cross-examination.

Shaunna huffed. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t know, honestly. I can’t put it into words, but it feels…different.”

“With Ade, you mean?”

“Everything. Ade, the house, you. I think I…not love him, but…”

“You care a lot about him?” Shaunna suggested.

“That’s what I’d say about the old ladies and dogs we see regularly in the park. Wishy-washy.”

“So you do love him.”

“After four days?”

“Face facts, hun. You fell for him the minute you clapped eyes on him.”

“I so did not!”

“You so did! ‘Oh, I had such an amazing time at the studio today. The producer was this really hot, sexy—’”

“I said nothing of the sort!”

“Your face said it for you. Ooh, you’re blushing!” Shaunna grinned, breaking with her traditional morning moodiness to torment him. Kris scowled, and she laughed. His scowl broke .

“Yeah, OK. Maybe I did fall for him straight away. But love is a big word.”

“Four letters. Not so big.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And you know what I mean. Sometimes you have to go with the flow. So it’s only been a few days. So what?”

“I’m nearly forty.”

“That means you can’t do the whole head-over-heels thing?”

“It’s not that simple, is it? Not with…” Kris shifted his eyes upwards. She’d know he meant Ade and his situation.

“Nor for you,” she said.

He shrugged noncommittally. He was gregarious and fun-loving and made friends easily, but deep, interpersonal relationships made him anxious, and with Ade, it was far from straightforward.

“Did you meet his ex?” Shaunna asked.

“Not meet, no. I watched him leave Ade’s place.” The image of Fergus, an intimidating, vile bully, right up in Ade’s face, was stuck in Kris’s mind, only leaving to swap places with the full Technicolor surround-sound replay of Ade’s wailing as he cowered on his kitchen floor. Regardless of the fact Fergus would’ve made mincemeat of him, Kris would’ve intervened if he’d believed for even a second it would help. But he’d made that mistake before, when George had trouble with a violent boyfriend at uni, and while George said he was grateful for the support, he was angry, too, because he felt like a victim, dependent on other people to fight his battles.

Kris suspected Ade would have felt the same if he or Pip or anyone else had stepped in. Ade needed to be the one to stand up to Fergus, and he had, but Kris was afraid it was far from over.

Shaunna hugged him and kissed his cheek. “See you later.”

He must’ve been lost in his thoughts a while, as she’d finished her tea and rinsed her cup. “Have a good day,” he called after her as she went through to the hall to put on her coat.

“You too. I’ve got my phone if you need me. ”

“What d’you think I should do about Ade?”

“Let him sleep, I guess. Bye!”

***

Ade

T he light in the room wasn’t right. Ade could tell, even with his eyes closed. It was coming from the wrong direction, and it was too bright. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d crashed out upside-down on top of the duvet, and he did feel kind of hungover. Then a dog barked, and Ade fully came to, opening one eye to observe his surroundings and catching sight of the clock.

“Eight-thirty—shit!” He rolled over and grappled for his phone, panicking as it rang out, trying to come up with a plausible reason—that wasn’t the real one—to offer his boss. If he’d checked his messages first, he’d have already known it wasn’t necessary, as Pip had stuck her oar in. Accordingly, Ade had food poisoning.

“Take as long as you need,” his boss said. “You lost last year’s annual leave. I doubt you’ll take this year’s if you don’t do it now, so let’s assume a fortnight.”

And that was the end of the discussion.

Ade flopped back into the pillows and sighed. Something about his boss’s tone suggested he knew more than he’d let on, to the point that he might as well have said, Sure. Take as long as you need. You lost your mind eleven years ago. Now you’ve found it again, why don’t the two of you take a couple of weeks to get reacquainted?

Because that was the truth of the matter, Ade was beginning to realise. The people close to him had known all along, hadn’t for a second believed his lies about why he was limping or couldn’t stand the pain of clicking the computer mouse, why he didn’t go on nights out, why he was often so desperate that he couldn’t stop the tears. He could see it now, clear as bloody day, and he didn’t know whether to be angry with them or send them thank-you cards for being there, in the background, ready to catch him when he fell.

“So…” He pulled himself up the bed and looked around the room, tinted sepia by the autumn daylight shining through the pale-yellow curtains. He’d been too stressed the previous morning to pay proper attention, but today he was feeling…better? Safer, certainly, and resolute.

I wonder if Julia’s up for a house guest for a few days… He hadn’t seen his sister in months, either because Fergus was around or because he’d been and gone but left his mark. But for once, Ade could tell Julia truthfully that it was the last time. So that was a plan; he’d drive up to Julia’s…

“The car…” Ade groaned and banged his head back, a self-harm habit that failed, as Kris’s headboard was soft, plush velvet, not iron bars. He had no idea why the MG had broken down, but he’d need to deal with that first, and then go back to the apartment to collect a few things. He didn’t think Fergus would be hanging around, but he’d never understood how Ferg’s mind worked and wasn’t sure Ferg knew either, so it was entirely possible he’d turn up. He might even be there right now, banging on the door, or he’d broken the door down and changed the locks. Then what?

I’ll call Mary, get her to scope the place out. No, car first. Or should I check with Julia before I make plans?

Too many things to organise, too much that could go wrong.

“You don’t need a checklist,” Ade told himself yet unlocked his phone and began making one anyway.

1. MG

As well cared for as it was, the car was older than him. Had it finally reached the end of its serviceable life? He couldn’t even handle the thought of watching it being loaded onto a truck, off to the scrapyard, another death to grieve. Come on, Ade. Keep it in perspective. It’s just a car. Except it wasn’t ‘just’ a car, and his emotions were getting the better of him again, but right at the point where he completely fell apart for something like the fiftieth time in less than a week, the bedroom door opened, and Kris backed into the room.

“Casper!” he shouted as the dog tore past and leap right into the middle of the bed, planting a huge, slobbery, licky kiss on Ade’s cheek.

“Morning, Caspy,” Ade greeted, accepting the unconditional, very wet and boisterous affection he’d been afforded. Meltdown temporarily averted.