Bitter Lemon
My nose is all blocked up. I can't smell anything except my armpits, which makes me more miserable. John says I'm not feminine enough, that I should be more concerned with my looks - fuck him! He doesn't have this flu, the chemist says half of Belfast have it.
My chest hurts every time I sneeze and I'm burning up. Outside I can hear taxi's honking their horns for those lucky people going out. I wonder if any of the houses out there have people sitting like me.
John won't even do the washing up. We haven't 'really' talked in a long time. I don't know what's happening to him, he's changed. Is this what he really thinks of me - leaving me alone when I'm ill? He said to me 'I don't want to get what you've got' well, we live together he can hardly avoid it.
I can see two lights flashing on Cavehill, they are like stars winking at me. I think he's found someone else. This is the fourth time down the Sheridan Arms this week. It takes a while to get to know someone; then when you do they turn out pretty unpleasant or boring, it happens to me all the time.
I can hear him downstairs in the toilet. I suppose I could go down, he'll get angry, there isn't any orange left, well just the sloppy pulpy stuff. I like to mix it with spring water. The bottle burps when you open it and you can smell the lemon twist they put in for taste and when you mix it the fizz creates a thick head. The lemon makes it quite bitter. I don't know if I should risk talking to him, he makes me so depressed.
I sit and listen to him banging the pots and pans. My head aches, every so often it starts to buzz and the sweat drips down stinging my eyes. The more I think about him the more I hate him and I am so lonely I could cry. I had a dream, we were both in the car going down to Newcastle and I forgot my shoes - don't know how I did that. We had an argument and then I woke up.
It's started to rain and I can feel a draught. I like listening to the rain drum on the roof, it feels like I'm being massaged and all the crap is being washed away.
I remember what he was like when I met him. He was really quiet and mysterious, one night we ended up chatting for hours, (he complimented my shoes) and we started to go out together.
I went downstairs and found his note, it was really nice, all about how sorry he was and how work was having an emergency and he would be late home. I hate that! I'm feeling a bit better now, especially as I have decided to leave him. I'll leave him the orange, he'll need that.



Rod White 6/5/2000

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