months?’ A pale band of skin on his ring finger gave away a recent end.
‘Marriages don’t end on the signing of divorce papers,’ he said, absent-mindedly touching his ringless finger. ‘They end some way before, or after, some never end, and I suspect some never really even start.’ Unhelpfully vague.
‘Why did you get divorced?’
‘Why didn’t you get married?’ Deflection, classic Peter.
‘Gabriel didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was going to be.’
‘Well, I don’t think I turned out to be who she thought I was going to be—’ sharing by copying, clever ‘—and statistically speaking half of all marriages end in divorce so really we shouldn’t be surprised when they fail.’ Resorting to the proliferation of facts when asked to comment on something of an emotional nature—smokescreen. ‘In fact when marriages fail they are more like a mathematical equation that’s been added up correctly, not something that is shocking or wrong—’ I was lost and found myself staring at his muscular upper thighs ‘—and with the advent of television and mass media the spread of false notions of love became pandemic. Did you know that the BBC Television Service was the world’s first regular television service? Britain used to be such an industrious country. We invented the steam engine, the sewing machine, penicillin, corkscrews and cats-eyes, the ones on the road, not the ones in the actual animal. We really don’t make anything any more.’ See, random facts, factual offerings in exchange for emotional thought. He thinks he can distract me with the demise of the Britishmanufacturing industry. But what has happened to our glorious country? And what were we talking about?
I looked back out of the window. We both sipped from our drinks.
‘Peter …’
‘Yes, Kate …’
‘Were you sad when your marriage ended?’
‘If I think about the reasons why we are not together, then I know we made a good decision. She is very happy and is with a really great man. It was the best decision for both of us.’ A well-rounded response; informative, in a way that reveals nothing at all.
We continued to stare out of the window. We both sipped from our drinks.
‘But did you feel sad?’
‘Kate …’
‘Yes, Peter.’
‘Why are you in this coffee shop at 06:30 on a Tuesday morning?’
‘I have a dance class at 07:15. It’s the Love-Stolen Dream of one of my friends, Jane, and—’
‘Really? You have a dance class?’
‘Yes, Peter, I have a dance class and the dance teacher said that if you start your day with a cha cha cha then the whole day dances for you. She said it in a way that made me think it would be a positive thing, to have a dancing day.’ Peter frowned and stared at my feet. For a second I wondered if I’d accidentally put on odd shoes. He turned to look back out of the window. We continued to sip from our drinks.
‘Kate, when we were at Pepperpots you said to Delaware that you plan to spend the rest of your life alone. Is that true?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I totally understand that. I am much happier when I’m alone.’
‘Peter Parker, you couldn’t bear to be alone when you were little. You practically lived with me and Grandma. In fact the only reason we stopped sharing a bed was because the neighbour told Grandma it was inappropriate.’
‘It was inappropriate. Teenage boys and girls should not be sleeping in the same bed. A couple more months and you’d probably have woken to find me trying to have sex with you.’
I sprayed my coffee all over the window and started choking.
‘God, sorry,’ he said, patting me on the back. ‘I didn’t mean literally . I meant, during one’s teenage years hormone levels peak to such high levels that it’s been argued by some more controversial biologists and anthropologists that one cannot be held responsible for one’s actions during those months and years as we operate under the influence of a potent mix of chemicals
‘Marriages don’t end on the signing of divorce papers,’ he said, absent-mindedly touching his ringless finger. ‘They end some way before, or after, some never end, and I suspect some never really even start.’ Unhelpfully vague.
‘Why did you get divorced?’
‘Why didn’t you get married?’ Deflection, classic Peter.
‘Gabriel didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was going to be.’
‘Well, I don’t think I turned out to be who she thought I was going to be—’ sharing by copying, clever ‘—and statistically speaking half of all marriages end in divorce so really we shouldn’t be surprised when they fail.’ Resorting to the proliferation of facts when asked to comment on something of an emotional nature—smokescreen. ‘In fact when marriages fail they are more like a mathematical equation that’s been added up correctly, not something that is shocking or wrong—’ I was lost and found myself staring at his muscular upper thighs ‘—and with the advent of television and mass media the spread of false notions of love became pandemic. Did you know that the BBC Television Service was the world’s first regular television service? Britain used to be such an industrious country. We invented the steam engine, the sewing machine, penicillin, corkscrews and cats-eyes, the ones on the road, not the ones in the actual animal. We really don’t make anything any more.’ See, random facts, factual offerings in exchange for emotional thought. He thinks he can distract me with the demise of the Britishmanufacturing industry. But what has happened to our glorious country? And what were we talking about?
I looked back out of the window. We both sipped from our drinks.
‘Peter …’
‘Yes, Kate …’
‘Were you sad when your marriage ended?’
‘If I think about the reasons why we are not together, then I know we made a good decision. She is very happy and is with a really great man. It was the best decision for both of us.’ A well-rounded response; informative, in a way that reveals nothing at all.
We continued to stare out of the window. We both sipped from our drinks.
‘But did you feel sad?’
‘Kate …’
‘Yes, Peter.’
‘Why are you in this coffee shop at 06:30 on a Tuesday morning?’
‘I have a dance class at 07:15. It’s the Love-Stolen Dream of one of my friends, Jane, and—’
‘Really? You have a dance class?’
‘Yes, Peter, I have a dance class and the dance teacher said that if you start your day with a cha cha cha then the whole day dances for you. She said it in a way that made me think it would be a positive thing, to have a dancing day.’ Peter frowned and stared at my feet. For a second I wondered if I’d accidentally put on odd shoes. He turned to look back out of the window. We continued to sip from our drinks.
‘Kate, when we were at Pepperpots you said to Delaware that you plan to spend the rest of your life alone. Is that true?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I totally understand that. I am much happier when I’m alone.’
‘Peter Parker, you couldn’t bear to be alone when you were little. You practically lived with me and Grandma. In fact the only reason we stopped sharing a bed was because the neighbour told Grandma it was inappropriate.’
‘It was inappropriate. Teenage boys and girls should not be sleeping in the same bed. A couple more months and you’d probably have woken to find me trying to have sex with you.’
I sprayed my coffee all over the window and started choking.
‘God, sorry,’ he said, patting me on the back. ‘I didn’t mean literally . I meant, during one’s teenage years hormone levels peak to such high levels that it’s been argued by some more controversial biologists and anthropologists that one cannot be held responsible for one’s actions during those months and years as we operate under the influence of a potent mix of chemicals
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