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“Why don’t you just tell me why you won’t date anyone? I might be able to help,” he says, sounding like the rational one of the two of us, which is not how it usually is between us.
“I have my reasons. I just don’t think relationships work. As soon as people get serious, two things happen. They either fall apart, the pressure of being committed becoming too much, or they stay together even when they should be apart. As a couple, they are miserable, yet they think they should stay in the relationship for whatever reason. I don’t think I know anyone in a serious relationship that is truly happy. I don’t want that in my life. I’d rather just have casual flings that are fun while they last,” I explain, as I continue to pace.
The silence in the room is enough to pull my attention back to Craig. It’s not normal for him to keep his big mouth closed. When I look over at him, his eyes are wide and he looks almost sad. “Mate, not all relationships are like that. My parents have been together for almost thirty years, and yes they argue sometimes, but if you ask them they’d say they’re happy.”
“Of course they would. They’re not going to tell you they hate being married to each other, and that they resent every fucking minute they have to be in each others company,” I snap, my eyes filling with tears as I think back to my childhood, when I first heard those words.
I must have only been around eight years old, and my parents had been in another one of their fights. My dad had been drinking, and Mum was pissed at him about it. They had another of their screaming matches, and me and my sister came downstairs to see what was going on.
We managed to get them to stop shouting, and Lena helped Dad up the stairs, getting him settled in the spare bedroom that used to belong to our eldest brother, Leon, before he moved out. He’s fifteen years older than us, so doesn’t really feel like a brother. He’s married with kids, and we rarely see him. Since he left, his room has pretty much become Dad’s. He goes there to sleep off the booze when Mum won’t let him in their bed.
Whilst Lena got Dad settled, I helped a very tearful Mum up to her room. I will always remember her reply when I asked if she was alright.
“I will never be alright. I’m in a marriage I can never get out of. We stopped loving each other a long time ago, but it doesn’t matter. When we agreed to get married, our own wants and desires stopped mattering. We have to be a couple for our family, and to support each other, even if we can’t stand one another. So, always remember this when you’re older, Lee. Don’t ever get into a serious relationship with anyone, because if you do, even when it all goes pear-shaped—and it will—you’re stuck together.”
Those words have been in the back of my head my whole life. I’m not even sure Mum remembers saying them, or if she meant them. Although she was mad as hell at Dad for drinking, she’d had a few glasses of wine that night too, and I think she was more than a little drunk. But eight year old me remembered every fucking word, and they’ve stayed with me as I’ve got older.
Whenever I’ve considered looking for a girlfriend, they’re the words that always hold me back. Relationships make people unhappy, whereas casual encounters are fun and can never lead to me getting hurt. Or, at least, that was always the case until I met Emmaleigh. No matter what intentions I had with her, the more time I’ve spent with her, the more I like her.
The more those words get silenced, and all thoughts turn to what it would be like to be in a relationship with her. My brain feels like it’s in a tug of war match. One side is the beliefs I’ve held on to my whole life, and all the evidence I have thanks to Mum and Dad’s marriage. But on the other side is Emmaleigh, and the way she makes me feel. The way she doesn’t even need to try and my heart races just thinking of her.
It’s impossible to fight off years worth of conditioning, but there’s one thing I do know for certain, I want her in my life. I know there’s a risk of me hurting her further, and I need to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen, but I can’t stay away from her.
Craig pulls me out of my own head when he places his hand on my arm, trying to reassure me. “Not everyone’s relationships go to shit, mate. You like Em, and I think you owe it to the both of you to at least try. Just don’t hurt her any further. She seems nice, and I’d like to meet her someday.”
I look up at my friend who has been by my side since we were kids. I suspect he knows a lot of where my opinion has come from, and about the type of relationship my parents have, but he doesn’t say anything—which is good because I wouldn’t have liked to hear it.
I return his smile, and make my decision. “She is nice. She deserves better than me. But she also has the right to make her own decisions, and if she says she can handle going back to our friends-with-benefits situation, then I have to honour her wishes. We’re both adults, who have been open and honest with each other. I can’t ever give her what she wants, but if she can handle what we have now, then I’m down for that. I do miss her.”
Craig shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face. “I think you’re fucking crazy not grabbing a girl like her while you can. You know that she can go off with another guy any time she chooses, and you have to accept that, right?”
I release a big sigh, and I hate the way my heart aches at that thought. “I know. We will just have to deal with that when the time comes.”
Before Craig has the chance to reply, my phone pings from the computer table I put it on when I started pacing. I practically run over to it and fumble to get it open as quickly as I can. I have my phone set to alert any time Em does anything online, and for the first time in two weeks, she’s posted on Facebook.
I ignore the look on Craig’s face, looking at me like I’m an actual fucking stalker, and I open the app as quickly as I can. I get to her post, and I mentally fucking chastise myself for forgetting what day today is. I think I know a way to make things right with Emmaleigh, and hopefully get things back on track between us.
Looking up at Craig with a smile on my face, I fill him in on my plan. “You know you said, you’d like to meet Emmaleigh? What about right now?”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
EMMALEIGH
“We care, so why don’t you! We care, so why don’t you,” I shout whilst holding on to the wooden banner we spent ages making.
It’s the day of the strike. We’re only two hours in and it’s already going tits up. We have been planning for this day for months, ensuring we find that perfect balance between honouring the nurses’ right to strike, and maintaining patient safety.
It’s not been easy. We’ve had to cancel all non-emergency procedures and admissions. We’ve had to ask family members to come in and help with the basic care of their loved ones, and we have had to strike in stages. I’ve tried to make sure everyone who wants to strike can, they just have to go and work on the ward for two hours, at some stage during the day, so the ward is staffed at all times. I think it’s important we’re all allowed to have our voices heard, but we still have a duty of care to our patients, and we would never put their health and safety in jeopardy. As the senior nurse on shift that day, I will also have an emergency pager. So, if things get too much on the ward, I can step in to help. No matter what, our patients will always be cared for.
It’s not ideal to have several different nurses working short two hour shifts, and we have to make sure the handover process is seamless to ensure no jobs get missed, but it’s something we as a team have been streamlining anyway. I think our ward runs quite well, and I don’t think it will be too much of a problem. Or at least I didn’t until one member of staff called in sick, then the whole rota fell out of sequence. But once I got it sorted again, we were able to successfully start to picket.
For the last couple of days, me and a couple of the other girls have spent our free time making lots of placards and signs for people to hold up. We’re trying to make it clear that since we give up time looking after our own family so we can care for yours, surely we deserve to be paid fairly for that. I have been doing this job for three years with no formal pay rise—other than the very small one I recently got with my promotion—so with the cost of living increasing, it actually works out that I’ve had almost a three grand pay cut. Not only that, I probably work more hours now than ever. More unpaid overtime, more shifts with no breaks, more shifts where I never even get to go to the toilet because we’re so busy. It’s reaching the stage where it’s putting our physical health, not to mention our mental health, at risk, and that’s not fair on us.
Sadly, that little rant doesn’t fit on a placard. So instead I went for catchy slogans like ‘We deserve fair pay’, ‘We care for you, now it’s time you care for us’—which is a personal favourite of mine, and is the one I’m currently holding.
As I walk up and down the muddy patch of grass at the entrance to the hospital, I’m glad I had the good sense to wrap up warm. Even though it’s June, there’s a bitterly cold wind in the air, and if it weren’t for the gloves I managed to find in my coat pocket, I think the hand holding my sign would be frozen.
There are almost a hundred nurses who are all standing beside the entrance to the hospital, shouting and chanting about fair pay and equal rights. But what impressed me more than the number of nurses who showed up, is the amount of people who have come just to support us. Patients have stopped by to stand with us for a little while, showing their support. Family members have come and held our hands while they fight for their loved ones. And other clinical members of staff, like ambulance drivers, who have come in their free time to show their support.
