When we don't say it back

When we don’t say it back


Whenever Virginia said the word love, she immediately made a strange clucking sound, as though she were trying to suck the word back into her mouth.
‘I love you,’ she said, clucking.

Ted stared hard into her eyes. A faint smile hovered. He lent forward and she closed her eyes as he kissed her.

They made love and after he went to the kitchen to make food. She lay in bed and smoked, watching the smoke curl and dance in the lamp-light. When she was finished she turned on the news.

‘What’s going on in the world?’ He asked handing her a plate of runny scrambled eggs and toast.
‘War, death, ranting politicians etc.’
‘Has the sport been on yet?’
‘No.’

They watched the news and the sport and then the weather forecast – tomorrow would be fine and dry.
‘Good,’ he said, ‘we can meet in the park for lunch.’ He was tired he said, he had important things to do in the morning.
‘Good night then,’ she said.

He stared at her hard again, smiling gently.
‘What,’ she was trying not to laugh, and almost failed.
He smiled and kissed her head, ‘I was just looking, it is a nice thing to do you know.’
‘I thought you needed to sleep.’
‘I do.’
‘So.’
‘I don’t want to now,’ he removed a hair from the side of her mouth.
She didn’t respond.
He looked at her and she at the wall, he thought she might cry.

‘Good night then,’ she said at last, for the first time matching his gaze. He nodded and said good night, kissing her cheek.

Half an hour later she turned the light off.


Ted was woken by light prods to the face and neck.
‘Ted.’
‘Yes.’
‘Say you love me.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Late. You don’t even have to mean it, just say it.’
‘I love you.’
Staring out into the darkness he could hear her breathing. He could hear her pull the duvet back and he heard her roll over, lightly she padded into the bathroom.

He could hear the light click on and the door click shut.