Holiday

A few weeks after we met, Lee's parents came back from traveling around Cuba. I have always wanted to go there, ever since I heard the Nat King Cole song of the same name. The untouchedness of it, the warm paradise of it, the old cars and 40's style values of it. Or maybe, actually, I just liked singing the song.

I didn't realise that if I said this idly to Lee he would spring in to action as fast or with as much determination as he did. But just a couple of weeks after Christmas he was in the travel agents, looking for deals.
It would be fair to say actually that he already had been in the travel agents. Just a week after we met he sent me a picture of holiday deals in a window in town. I didn't respond to it. I'd had an awful time with an ex once who pressured and pressured me to go on holiday with him and then was fairly awful once we were away. Never again I'd said. 

So when Lee started talking about a holiday I shied away from it in my head. I couldn't realistically afford it and maybe I really was the flakey dreamer who only wished for things, never actually did them.
I deferred a direct 'no' to instead changing the subject. There was just no way. Not a never, but certainly a not right now.

But for every excuse I could find, he found an answer...
'I'll pay for you so that you just have to pay for your son.' Or, 'you should have a holiday, you need it. I need it...'
and then, more persistently: 'lots of people go away without their children.' 'It's not normal to be so anxious about leaving them...' 'Why don't you want to go on holiday?!'
Gradually the campaign changed tack; from wanting us all to go away together, to just wanting to take me. I could not conceive of leaving my son in this country and flying thousands of miles away. What if something happened? I wouldn't be there to take care of him.

I knew that my thinking was flawed, of course I did; Children don't automatically die once their parent isn't there, but I think now that Lee deliberately tried to extract me from my son, just like everything he tried to strip away that supported or defined me.

His campaign continued with pressure.
Pressure always.
Appealing to my compassion, piling on the guilt, pointing out my flawed thinking, pointing out that my anxiety was ruling my life.

It seemed as if I were preventing him from having the holiday he needed. That I was being obstructive and ridiculous. 'I just want to take you away! Normally people get to know one another before there are children involved... this way we can spend some time on our own, doing just that'.

And what did he actually want? To take me away somewhere so I could relax? To be seen as taking me away?  He certainly made sure to tell everyone that he was taking me away.
But I paid. 'I'm not a princess. I'll pay my own way and then no-one can own me' I thought. But actually, weather I paid my way or not wasn't the point.
The point was that my self worth was so low, any compliment or kindness represented something I needed to pay back, to balance up the books. I always felt I was in deficit.
On an early date in a bar I bought Lee a drink. Standard. He was so 'amazed' he said. 'I've never been bought a drink by a woman.' I think I was actually flattered by that. I mean really, is that all it took?
And of course I liked being seen as that self sufficient person who doesn't leech of others.
But this was how he groomed me; by making mountains out of my good nature and my sense of propriety. No-one had noticed those things before, I wanted to bathe in the light of his recognition.

In theory, a holiday would have been great. But if you are bringing up a child alone, with no maintenance, on a very small income and a debt to pay off, the thought of it is no holiday at all. It is an added stress. What could I have done with that money? Maybe nothing other than to not feel worried that there wasn't enough or that I was spending money I didn't really have.

The pressure was gentle at first; like someone kneeding out a knot in my shoulder. I noticed that there was an area of tension I hadn't been aware of. I'd been carrying it around so long it was just part of my physiology and maybe it felt good to have someone easing out those knots of my tangled thinking.
I felt good admitting to my anxieties and shortcomings; no I didn't have the money, I didn't have the emotional security in myself to leave my son for a week.
But the knots of my anxious mind were slowly being turned into flaws before my very eyes. Actually why didn't I have the money? I worked, what was the problem? Did I need another job? Shouldn't I be chasing my ex for maintenance?
And, while we're on the subject, why couldn't I do what his sister and brother in law had just done and leave my parents in charge for a week?

And then, in March, we were visiting my parents for the weekend. Sitting having a drink with my Mum he brought it up again, Wouldn't it be so nice to go away somewhere, just us, because it's stressful, you know being a single parent isn't it? Such a shame that my son's Dad was such a looser, Hardly any respite there. (Ignoring the fact that my son was at his Dads that weekend).

My Mum, who had seen me at the worst of things with my son's father and had worried and worried and held her tongue even when it broke her to watch me struggle and loose almost everything, agreed that I needed a holiday and volunteered to babysit for the 7 days we would potentially be away.
Right away I was happy that Lee was happy, that he could see I was not actively trying to take away his chance of a break, but an uneasy feeling of no way out began to spread, my excuses diminishing before my eyes...
I couldn't just say 'No' still. I was not that woman back then. He was constant and consistent in his campaign. 'I just want to take you on holiday' 'You need a break' 'I really need a holiday and I don't want to go on my own' 'my job is so stressful if I don't plan something to look forward to soon I'm going to break'.
And the way was acting lately would certainly hint towards how stressed he must be. The growing awkward silences. The text messages that were ever so slightly 'off'. Not so that you could say 'there, look, you said this really shitty thing and I want to know why', but somehow, something in the tone wasn't right. As if there was absence of something without form.
Is that what co-dependency is? That you can sense something is wrong from miles away? You become so attuned, so sensitive, so fearful of rejection or an argument that when the air shifts around you, you are on high alert? Hyper vigilance I think they call it. I was anxious, not angry, about what was coming to me in message form but the way he, in turn, measured the content of my messages was nothing short of insanity.

I've since had interactions where the amount of kisses I put at the end of a message don't become a reason for someone to sulk. Or if I called someone babe, instead of baby, it wasn't the beginning of an argument.  He told me once, 'you only ever call me babe when you're angry with me'. I hadn't even thought about it. Perhaps I should have called him asshole and had done with it.
I have to be honest here, there have been times, during my digital career, I have wondered at the lack of someone's x's at the end of a message. Their sudden absence keenly felt: WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?! I'd wonder... DO YOU HATE ME NOW??

I've laughed over an article in the Independent that jovially stated 'ending your texts with a full stop is truly monstrous. We all know this. Grammar be damned, it just doesn't look friendly.' And so Lee's logic seemed reasonable, in a way.
He'd match me x for x always, giving me as much as I gave. Never was his affection given freely or without regard of my perceived investment. To him it was as if it were a transaction, not a tidal swell of admiration and respect that would wash fears and inadequacies smooth as sand. It was measured, metered.
Sometimes now I won't put Xxx or X or even x at the end of a message. It is a small freedom. Even more liberating is the fact that the other person doesn't care. It doesn't mean that we hate each other. It' doesn't mean anything at all. But Lee would monitor it, every little discrepancy; the minutiae of my response. He once pointed out that my 'kissometer was all over the place today, lol..'. but the observation seethed with his passive indigence. How dare I not be consistent in the amount of kisses I wrote at the end of a message. And so I monitored myself and made sure not to let anything slip.


Once we had the go ahead from my mum I tentatively agreed to exactly the opposite of what I wanted and he found a price around; £750 all in. I gaped and backed out right away. There was no way. I couldn't afford it but I kept looking for other, cheaper deals. His heart, however, was set on Cuba, and on punishing me for my non compliance...

'Probably for the best. I can see you heart wasn't in it from the beginning. I just wanted to take you away but the shines gone off it now and I feel a little silly'


I was sorry, I explained, but summer holidays and going away camping and my son's birthday... the cost of everything together... It wasn't feasible.
The truth was at the back of my cutlery draw I had more than enough cash to pay for the holiday, from the Christmas and Spring markets that were my livelihood at the time. But that's just what it was, a livelihood, not pin money. Everything was accounted for, books were done on time and kept up to date, stock was replenished and orders went out. What it amounted to was a very modest income that allowed me to be a full time, single parent, on hand, all the time.

Lee didn't see what I did in the same light as I. At the same time as he started dropping hints that I should come off the Citalopram, he started suggesting I look for a job here, or there.
But you are a trained teacher?! You could get a job like that! Think of all the money you'd have, you'd be dressing in Gucci going to work, lol... gucci though? Nope.
At the spring market he told me I should apply to do the job my business mentor was doing, going around, advising the other sellers on the market, talking about product development and the like.

'But I have a job Lee', I'd said. He sort of smirked. I remembered a conversation we had had early on where he told me he'd been telling his colleague about me, how I ran my own business, made my own money and took handouts from no-one.
I'd corrected him, the business didn't make that much money, though it looked very good from the outside, I still needed tax credits and housing benefit, my business was still growing and actually I had a job, I was a mother.

'Imagine if we combined our income baby, you on a teachers salary, me on my wage, how amazing would that be? Living together would be so much cheaper... all these couple in work don't know how hard it is. They are on (quotes combined salary) while I live off half that.'

'But Lee, It wouldn't be all your money if we lived together. My money would be mine. I don't believe in joint bank accounts, a woman should always have her own funds.'

I saw him scowl.


I capitulated about the holiday. After he sent me the text message about my heart not being in it and didn't speak to me that evening or all the next day I sent him an apology. 'I'm sorry, I just freaked out about the price' I told him. I was surprised when he was pissed off that I'd had my reservations, telling me that I was only coming up with problems, he wanted to find a solution. His solution.

And I can't remember the exact moment I said it, that I'd go, that I'd arrange my Mum to babysit and find the money. I don't remember, but looking back I am not surprised.
There we were in March, just four months in to knowing this man. Already I had fallen, for his charm, his intelligence and wit. He had raised me up every single day, telling me so how much he valued me, how beautiful, intelligent, creative, talented, driven... but already I was teetering on my pedestal as he challenged all the things I valued.
I saw my mental health in stark contrast to the 'normal' he seemed to represent. He was proactive, positive, solutions focused. He wanted to DO stuff, not stay stuck, going nowhere. I was negative, anxious, had no sense of proportion, needed drugs to feel normal, had to negotiate my child free weekends with an unreliable ex who paid me nothing.
He'd challenged my friendships, my livelihood, my faith, the very core of me, he had already given me herpes... Everything, on all levels, was laid bare and vulnerable. Pressure applied, just gently at first, for my own good no doubt.
He saw it as massaging out the kinks in my character. But it no longer felt good to unravel with him. He had me under his thumb and was pushing harder and harder.


Part of me was excited, but it was a terrible excitement that felt like fear. While we were away in West Wales he had dropped hints that the beautiful coral sands of our resort would be the perfect place for someone to propose...
It was as if the most beautiful sword hung over my head. I wanted this. Didn't I? But who was I anyway?
Certainly not the woman I'd thought I was as I'd set up my stall that morning before Christmas. There, when the mild winter air was soft and cool on my face, I'd felt solid and unassailable. But try as I might I couldn't find her anymore, she'd lost all her value and all her voice. Now she was an Echo to his Narcissus.


And what was that holiday like there in paradise? Was it relaxing? Exciting? Beautiful?
It was all those things with an undercurrent of hatred thrown in to curdle its beauty. Right before we had gone on holiday, Lee had broken up with me. for all of 12 hours.
He cried in my kitchen, telling me he'd made the worst mistake of his life and that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Eventually, as we ironed things out, I said I'd go but 'please Lee, don't propose'.

I have a lasting memory of that holiday standing on the beach alone, crying because he wasn't speaking to me, my mouth full of ulcers as a thunderstorm threw its forks down along the coast miles away.
It was too hard not to wonder how my son was doing, it was too hard to maintain this brittle silence that stretched out as storms lay brooding on the horizon.