Dave

My friend Gem came round to my new place this morning for the first time, saying he needed to tell someone what had gone on. I'd only just put the pan for breakfast on to heat up. It was a blue cast iron frying pan; a moving in present he'd given me from him and Tanya two days before at work so that I would have something to cook on when I got settled in. It had not even begun to get warm when I heard the knock.
 
I turned the heat off and went to the front door. Gem was stood on the doorstep a bit sheepish, in his going out clothes, hair all over the shop, and kebab on his black shirt.
 
"Sorry mate, I know it's a bit early, but can I come in?" he said quietly.
 
"Course. What's up?" I said, gesturing him in. 

"You know," I carried on, as I walked through to the kitchen, past the pile of empty moving boxes. "You could look like shit if you tidied yourself up a bit. Heavy night?"
 
"Oh, aye. Certainly was. Christ yes," he replied. "Any way, nice place. I like what you've done with it."
 
"Very funny, shut the door behind you. Heart and soul?" I didn't bother waiting for an answer to this old question and started to get the bits and bobs for a cup of tea out of a box on the kitchen floor.
 
"And I see that you didn't waste any time." He had picked up one of the two half full wine glasses on the work surface.
 
"Oh yeah, you know. Give us those before you break them," I said, taking the glasses and tipping the wine away before putting them in the sink.
 
"Anyone I know?"
 
"Doubt it," I answered, turning back to the kettle. "So, tell me, what's got you up and out so early on a Saturday morning, still in your best bib and tucker? Looking like a pile o'shite, I might add."
 
He sat on one of the battered charity shop chairs and told me that he had been out with some guys he plays football with down at Copley. They'd set off early, and it had gone on a bit longer than he thought. Then they had stayed out a bit longer than that. At three o'clock he got home with a dog-eared kebab in one hand, but could not find his keys.
 
Then it had all gone wrong.

Tanya let him in. She kicked him furiously into the front room, telling him to ‘sleep on the fucking couch, you stupid drunken prick', or something like that.
 
"Her usual reaction, you know?" He looked at me as if I would know. I said I didn't really, no, I'd never seen that from her.
 
"Here, drink this," I said, passing him a mug of tea. "Bacon?"
 
He nodded, "Please. Brown."
 
Then the red mist had come down, he said. Something just went inside him. He said suddenly he could not take any more of her face every time he came home, and for some reason it had become really important for him to sleep in his own bed. The kids were away, so why did it matter that he had been drinking?          

He had forced his way upstairs to their bedroom, knocking Tanya down at the foot of the stairs, dropping his the kebab on the floor. When he got to the bedroom he had started to get undressed, but struggled with his shirt buttons just inside the doorway. Tanya tried to open the door to get in but he half pushed it, half fell on it, and caught her fingers against the doorjamb.
 
"This is where is gets a bit, you know, fuzzy," he continued. "I opened the door to see if she was okay, and she kind of jumped at me, with her nails. I thought she was trying to claw my face, and I just fell over with her on top of me. So I started to slap out and kick out and all sorts of shit, and I think I caught her one because she fell off and got onto the bed. She was calling me all sorts, drunken fucker, ignorant twat, you name it.
 
"So I got up, and I think, oh shit mate, what have I done, I think I spat at her. Then, I don't know why, I called her a dirty, two-timing bitch," he was looking out of the window as he said this. "She went fucking mental, mate, slapping me and screaming at me to get out, so I did. I went off to sleep downstairs."
 
The rising sun had woken him up. He left the house in the clothes he was wearing, then walked the three miles from his house to mine.
 
I had no idea what I could say, and carried on making the breakfasts. It was really quiet and Gem was crying. I could not look at him. The phone rang, and I took the pan off the light.
 
"Oh, your phone's connected. Shall I get it?" Gem asked. I shook my head and went through to the front room where it sat on a pile of books next to the front door.
 
"Dave?" came the voice at the other end. "It's me, Tan. Is Gem there? I don't know where he is, we had a big row and he's gone. Oh shit Dave, I think he might..."
 
"No, it's alright. I've got windows already, thank you very much," I said, and put the phone down. I looked through to Gem sat in the kitchen, his eyes red.          

"Saturday fucking morning, can you believe it? Must have been one of those random phone number things."
 
"So, what do you think you are going to do?" I asked him as I came back in to finish cooking.
 
We talked it through as we ate our sandwiches and drank our tea. He seemed really remorseful, claiming he had learned a lesson. It wasn't the first time, but it was the worst, he just has no idea what changes in him when he's had a drink. As I listened to what he had to say, nodding in the right places, all I heard was blah, blah, blah. The words were sincere, but he seemed angry at the same time. He told me that was it, no more.
 
Then I gave him a lift home. On the way I went through all the required platitudes. He'd better change because he's got a beautiful wife and two great kids, they are the ones that are going to get hurt; we all have faults and this was his, it's how you deal with it that is important; there was only one person who could change it. Even as I said the words I was sure that he would know they felt false and wrong to me; that I really wanted to say something entirely different.

Driving through the fields between towns, I looked over and could see the things I was saying humiliated him. There was no need to carry on, so I shut up. To kill the silence he asked me who the girl was, and I made something up. He looked envious. We drove the rest of the way in the quiet that only good friends have.
 
"Any way, Dave," he said as we pulled up outside his house. "You better give us a ring with your new phone number mate, we don't know it, and Tanya can put it in her book. We might have to phone you to see whether you've burned the place down yet." 

I watched as slowly he went up the garden path to face his wife, thinking, sort it out mate, please, because I won't stand to one side for much longer.

Gem 
 
Christ I had a banging headache when I woke up this morning. I'm not entirely blameless though. I had been out with the lads - top night it was too - and got back, shall we say, somewhat later than was expected. Then there was that trouble with Tan, and I ended up on the couch downstairs.
 
I didn't bother getting dressed, that would have meant getting showered and tidied up, which would then have meant I was at home. So I would have had to look after the kids whilst Tanya went shopping or to her mum's or something. Sod that. So I did one as soon as I woke up.
 
Where could I go at that time on Saturday morning? Where else, but good old, reliable Dave's. Bit of a walk, but no choice. I was in no state to drive, if you know what I mean.
 
He was up of course - he always was keen. Even when we shared a flat he was up with the birds. The feathered kind, mind. Never really one for the ladies our Dave. And there he was, moving into his oh so cutesy, little, new house.       

"Very nice" I said to him as I went in. I suppose it was really, but if he makes it into a bachelor pad I'll be fairly surprised. He thought I was being funny.
 
"Heart and soul?" he asked predictably.      

'Fuck off mate', I thought. ‘Get a new line would you? That one went out with Kickers.'

I didn't say that of course. What I did say was something like ‘Bloody hell, you had a woman here, didn't waste much time.' Not like him really, but occasionally it has to be said, Dave does throw a surprise left at you. Two wine glasses, half full, not much unpacking. Well, well. Well done Dave, good on you pal.
 
Of course, he was shady about it. Always is, morals and etiquette are a strong point. So obviously he was not giving much away. I think I tried again later, but by then I had a lot more on my mind didn't I?
 
He asked me, not unreasonably, what was the matter. So, I told him. Most of it any way. Got pissed, home late, Tanya mad, blah-de-blah. I even told him about the spitting, and kind of let it slip that I asked her about her seeing someone else.
 
You see, that's part of the problem. I reckon she's off with another bloke. The signs are there. She goes off shopping, but comes back with nothing. I phone her mobile, no answer. One night she went out with the girls but didn't get back until two in the morning. "Had a glass of wine back at Angie's" Yeah, right.
 
It started with the kids. We were superb before they came. Proper couple, loads of friends, great life. Then the kids came and took it all away from us. Please don't misunderstand, I love them to bits, the pair of them, real stars, but they have taken a load of what was great and put something else in its place that's fantastic, but not the same. Even things with Dave are different. We used to have a great time, but now he does things that I have nothing to do with. I miss all that, and I miss who I was.
 
So, I told him a shorter version, and he listened, as he does. We had breakfast that he made on the pan Tanya insisted we buy him as a moving in present. I suppose it's nice that's he's got his own place, and he brings women back, lucky sod.
 
See what I mean, about missing things. When we shared a flat the first thing either of us would know about the other getting lucky - usually the luck was mine, I have to say - would be a shapely leg in the bathroom, not a wine glass that I would not even have seen if I had got there ten minutes later. Thinking about it though, perhaps it would have been better if I had got there a bit later.         
 
As I told him most of the story, I got a bit confused and caught up with things and started to feel really, really sad. What the fuck was wrong with me? I've got a beautiful wife and kids, a nice house, good job. The world is my lobster as they say. But I still cannot put the past away. I still hanker after those bachelor days.
 
Dave didn't mention it, just started making some bacon butties and tea. Solid sort Dave, nice guy, a mate.   

Then the phone rang, and Dave rushed to pick it up, even though he was in the middle of cooking, and I had offered to answer it. ‘Aye, aye,' I thought. ‘That's a bit swift. Must be the girl from last night.'
Nobody knew his new number yet, and there's no signal for his mobile, so, I concluded, he must have given her his number. And that means only one thing. I was just about to pull him up on it when he said something about having windows already thank you very much. Well, you can't win them all.
 
I carried on and I really spilled it on him. How much I wanted to change, to live my life now, not get fucked up and stupid any more. He didn't know about the other times. They were not as bad, so we sorted it out ourselves. This was different though - a line had been crossed, and unburdening myself to Dave
 
He offered me a lift home, and I accepted. I wish I hadn't. Things would have been much, much better if I had just walked home. I could have phoned home when I got a signal, Tanya would have been less mad with me, Dave would still be the Dave I knew.
 
He went to town in the car, telling me all sorts of things that I would not have expected him to. Laying down the law. Like it mattered so much to him. Got to change, kids, wife, self respect, too much to lose. ‘Oh, come on mate,' I thought. ‘I know all that. Please tell me something else, something that I want to hear.'
 
Any way, I put up with it. It was only fair I suppose, he had listened to my story. I sat there, wondering if he thought there was more to it than I was really letting on. He must have seen something in my face because he stopped talking, like I was about to tell him to shut up. Sometimes you just don't want to listen. It felt more comfortable when it was quiet.
 
As I got out of the car, I asked him to make sure we knew his number, and he muttered something. I waved to him and walked up the path to face Tanya, thinking, I wonder how they got his number this morning.
 
Tanya
 
I'm sat with the boys in the car, looking up through the window at a house I should not already be familiar with, a house my husband is inside, asking his best friend (best man, no less) if he wants to come for tea with us

- oh, yes, and apologising for disturbuing him that morning with his sob-story about how his wife doesn't understand him - which is completely true, but only in ways he would not understand himself - and how he regrets what he's like - which is probably also true, but it won't stop you, will it Gem?  

- and I'm thinking, why Tan, why have you given up again?
 
When he came home the last night, Gem spoiled what had been, for me, the first really nice night I've enjoyed in a long time. Putting the kids to bed without having to ask Gem if he was going to get off his backside and join us while I read a story was only the start.
 
I sat there with just the sound of the two boys' breathing on the monitor, the red and green lights dancing, and I thought to myself, sod it, I'm going out. If he can, so can I. Who cares what half-brained ideas it gives him? Let him think what he wants - I want to go out, so I'm going out.            


So what did I do, I stayed in. Sort of. True I did phone my mum, and true also, she came round to babysit. But go out? Not strictly true.     


When my mum came round she was all pleasant, but I could tell she thought something was up. She even asked ‘What's the matter love?' and looked at me in that way she does. I said nothing, but she knew, oh yes, she knew.        


I took the car. I thought I'd be able to get home early, before Gem got back, drunk as usual, and I could pretend to be asleep when he got in. I don't think I knew where I was going to go. I could go and see if Angie was still in, and have a natter, then just go home and have a bath.
 
If I really did have another man, like Gem seems to think, perhaps I would have gone there. Instead, do you know where I went? You guessed it, I went round to Dave's new place. It's really nice. Kind of cottagey, and he's got all these ideas about how to make it look great. He's going to do the kitchen blue, to match the pan we bought him.
 
I stayed longer than I thought I would, and had one too many glasses of wine. (He's got these two glasses that fit a pint of wine in, which doesn't make it easy when you say you'll just have one glass.) We had to sit on the floor because the couch was stood up in a corner.
 
We were cosy as you like on the rug in front of the fire. We chatted away and he put some music on. At one point, I was lying with my head on his arm, him softly stroking my hair, when it went quiet. The music had stopped, and there was only the firelight. I looked up at him, and if he'd kissed me then I don't think I would have got home. He seemed to wait, wanting to, but not able to. I'm glad he didn't. It's just not worth it.
 
As we talked, I told him all about what was going on with Gem, and how he got drunk and hit me. Dave said he could believe it, Gem was his best mate and all, but sometimes he couldn't stand him. When he'd had a drink mainly.
 
It got late and I said I had to be going. Dave was a gentleman about all this, and said he'd keep quiet to Gem. He gave me his new phone number, and said I should ring him if I wanted to talk at any time. As I was putting my coat on, next to the door, he leaned down and kissed me, and kept on kissing me, and I kissed him back as he pressed me against the door. Somehow, when we came up for air, I got the door open and, even though I have to say I kissed him again, for good luck you might say, I told him I had to go. He looked disappointed, but more than that, he looked a bit relieved.
 
When I got home, as soon as my mum had tutted her way out of the door, I poured myself a big glass of wine. It was very late, but I couldn't go to sleep after that. I was still sat there when Gem came home, very drunk and in one of his pissy moods. I couldn't even tell what he was saying properly.            


I asked if he wanted a cup of hot chocolate and he belched some insult at me about how boring I was, and what was I still doing up, shouldn't I be in bed if I had to get up with the kids, and had I been drinking while I was babysitting?      
That got me, oh that really got me. How could he come home like that and tell me how to bring up my children? Him, who acted like he couldn't care less, coming home and criticising me? I snapped and tried to get him into the sitting room so he could sleep on the couch and be out of the way when the kids did wake up.          
 
He went mad, shouting and ranting at me. I ran to try and get upstairs, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, then he went up himself, banging off the walls, nearly falling over the bannister.
When I made it up the stairs myself, he had gone into our room, and was trying to get his shirt off. It had food on the front, and I thought I could calm things down by making a joke about that. As I went into the room, he roared something and went to shut the door, but fell over his stupid drunken feet and banged it shut. On my fingers. I swore blue murder and shouted
 
"Mummy," came a little voice from the room next to ours. "Mummy, is it okay mummy?"
 
"It's okay, sweetheart," I said, fuming at Gem as he came out all apologetic."Daddy's just banged his toe on the door. Go back to sleep."
 
"But mummy, you were shouting."
 
"It's okay darling. It's okay now, go back to sleep poppet" - while I deal with your dad - "go on, there's a good boy."        
           
I got up and tried to grab hold of Gem's hair. I think I scratched his face, and he fell backwards onto the bedroom floor. I was more concerned about the kids, who I thought would surely get up. I did not want them to witness this, so I turned to shut the door. This was a mistake, as I turned back, Gem caught me open handed across the cheek and I hit the side of the bed. He got up, coordinated now, spat at me, and started to call me all sorts of names, and why was I still dressed all nice at that time of night.
 
"Gem, the kids, shut it, the kids'll hear." He said I should have thought of that before I went whoring. I'd done reasoning by now, and slapped him back, told him to get downstairs, called him a drunken twat.
 
"Mummy, I need the toilet." I looked at Gem, that's it, get down stairs right now. He got the message and clumped off. Leaving me to explain what had gone on to the kids. In the morning he had gone.