I looked at the grey velour sofas and crystal chandeliers, the furniture he had ordered and had delivered without me having any say. I thought about the strange foreign spicy foods and bottles of lager in the fridge that he insisted I order. I heard his words again.
You don’t deserve this.
I wondered if I should have written down everything I had said. Perhaps I should have started recording our conversations when I could sense his anger rising. Maybe then I could work out where I kept slipping up. Surely, after all this time, I just needed to know him a little better, dance around his outbursts, try to meet his needs a little better.
Maybe it was me? My period was due. I could feel it coming, and I was frustrated because I didn’t want it; I wanted to be pregnant again.
His words rang loud and true. I didn’t deserve anything he gave me. He provided for both of us, and I was acting selfishly.
He had come home from work and I had been feeling sorry for myself all day. I was tired and hormonal.
It had been hot in the flat all day and he had started restricting the times and hours I went out. So I drew the curtains to keep the heat away, and I must have fallen asleep. I woke to the sound of the front door slamming.
I sat bolt upright and looked around at the mess I had intended to clear up, and I thought about the dinner on the side I had intended to cook.
After he had shown me how upset he was with his fists, I lay on the floor as I always did after he had left the flat. I lay there thinking that it would all come together in time. Time was all we needed. We hadn’t been together very long; we were still learning about each other. I was young; I hadn’t been in a relationship before. He was older than me by ten years. He understood women, as he told me regularly.
Later that evening, still alone in the house, I picked out my favourite film, Maid in Manhattan, and curled up on the sofa. I looked at the bruises on my arms. I was already anticipating the burst of a rainbow-hued bouquet that came after the violent purple. I found beauty in the colours, knowing they were already fading.
The bruises would come and go. But my soul was broken beyond repair.
Instagram post: 4th May 2019
Hello, my cleaning crew, I hope you don’t mind me popping on here again today. I just have so much cleaning stuff going on right now. I just remembered I have my cleaning caddy all lined up ready to go which is packed to the brim with all my favourite sprays and room spritzers. I am going to start by stripping my sofa cushions, then I’m moving on to the skirting boards and radiators. No corner will escape me this month. By next month, the place will be well and truly gleaming. I have been in hibernation for far too long and now it’s time to wake up and start smelling the sweet scent of air fresheners and upholstery cleaners. Do I hear a hell yeah? Send me your pics on stories and hashtag it #springmrsclean
Mrs C x
#springclean #mrsclean #spring #cleaning #cleanstagrammer
134,989 likes
maybebaby You’ve just reminded me I need to strip my cushions too. Thanks, Mrs Clean.
barbellsandbooks I have zero energy to do any cleaning today so I’ll enjoy watching the results of your labour.
jcaraballo09 Hell yeah!
lucybest65 I just don’t understand how anyone can get a thrill out of cleaning their radiators. Surely she’s a young woman – I know we don’t get to see her and she prefers a certain amount of anonymity, but come on! Hasn’t she got something else she’d rather be doing? Wiping down your radiators on a Saturday?
dreadlockginger Whatever floats your boat, innit?
12
Now
I dragged myself out to the shops. Knowing that I only had to go as far as the next high street was some sort of comfort. Shopping had never been my idea of entertainment. I used to be an organic fun kind of girl: reading, long walks in the woods, conversations by the campfire at night. What was I now except a shell of that woman? I missed her from time to time and the pure rapture I would gain from such simple activities.
The clothes store that Mini had mentioned was easy to find and right next door to the preloved shop, and so I decided to have a quick browse and collect the table from next door on my way home. I had noticed the clothes shop plenty of times, but the thought of going in and trying on clothes, perusing the rails and racks filled me with an unbridled sense of doom.
The bell pinged as I let myself in through the front door. The woman behind the counter wore a bright-pink piece of cloth as a bandana. Her cheeks were rosy, as though she spent a healthy amount of time outdoors. She looked slightly older than me, maybe early forties, and she greeted me with a hello and smile that made me feel we could have been friends in another life.
‘Just let me know if you need any help,’ she spoke softly with a slight husk.
‘Okay, thanks.’ I tried to match her soft tone.
The shop was a bit of a mixed bag from incredibly unique and independent labels to a selection of Boden pieces in the corner.
I picked up a shirt that looked like it could be my size, then I looked at the rack of shoes that were next to the window. I was just picking up a flat red shoe in a six when I was startled by banging on the window. I looked up and was surprised to see that Will from uni was standing outside, waving like a lunatic. He did a funny
