Ikea – Nottingham

My parents are visiting.
We decide to go to Ikea.

We try out every sofa.
Sit on every seat.
Lie on every bed.
Go into every show room.

Mum found some plastic flowers. She brings them over to me. We decide to put them in a show room.
I go into one.
Take out a glass
And put the flowers inside.
Then I take out a card
And leave it next to them.

We collect flowers as we go along and put them in different places. In one of the kitchens, I put three flowers sticking out of the sink plughole. And leave a card in the sink next to it.

I really want to put one in the toilet. So I find a show room where the toilet is slightly secluded. I go in. But the seat has been glued down.

Instead I settle for leaving the flowers and card in the bathroom sink. But I don’t wait to see if anyone notices in any of the rooms.

We come out of the last room and there is a spotlight circling on the floor. It’s projecting some offer they have on. But as no one is around, we decide to use it as a spotlight to dance under. I dance in turn with my mum and my dad.

Who’d have known you could have so much fun in Ikea?

We sit side by side on the bed.
Still.
Too scared to talk.
Fear of what is to come.
…
I am feeling uneasy.
- I move to the other side of the bed
And try to make myself comfortable.
He does the same.

Silence…

He can’t take it any longer…
“Are we going to talk now?"
I dared not speak...
“I think we need to.”

I know he is right.
It can’t be delayed any longer.
I can’t delay it any longer.

It is me that has to speak.
He is waiting…
…
I look at him.
I see his eyes.

This is the hardest things I've ever had to do.
I don't know how to do it.

I keep searching for words,
Hoping for some to come to me.
But they don’t.

And all I can say is…
“I don’t know how to start.”

He sits,
Waiting,
Patient.
Waiting for the words to leave my mouth.

But they won’t come.
They have deserted me.

I ask him to start,
Knowing there isn’t much for him to say.
But hoping me would lead me to where I needed to be,
Bringing me closer.
Just as he always does when I struggle.

Like the good-hearted person he is,
He does what I need.
What he knows I need.

He leads me down the path,
Holding my hand,
Drawing me nearer to the edge with each word.

Then he speaks the words
That prepare me to take a step on my own.

“Normally it’s me who reassures you that it’s all going to be ok.
But I can’t do that this time,
I just don’t know…”

He has let go…
I am at the edge…

He looks at me,
Willing me not to speak the words we both know are coming.

And through a broken voice
- I speak them.

“I just don’t know that I can do it anymore.”

I take the final step.
I speak the selfish words.

The stillness returns,
This time disturbed only with teardrops.

Holding them back hurts more,
And so I let them come.

Here we lie,
Holding each other.
Never wanting to let go,
Never wanting this time to stop,

Our bubble,
Our moment,
Our time.

Weatherspoons, The Roebuck – Nottingham

Closing time draws near. We are planning where to go next.
The bar tenders start to clear the tables, closing down for the night.

One of the bar tenders has been wiping the tables next to where we are sitting. He is called away.

He has been gone for over ten minutes already.
He has left his cleaning stuff on the table so he will be back.

I pick out a card, and put it on the table.

We carry on talking, finishing our drinks. I forget all about it. Until I see him walk back over.

I watch him.
I wonder if he will pick it up,
Or if he will ignore it.

He goes to pick up his spray and cloth.
But stops.
He has seen the card.

He picks it up.
He reads it.
A small smile creeps across his face.
And in turn across mine.

He tucks it into his shirt pocket,
And carries on cleaning with a smile on his face.