Her Melting Point

Without a Backward Glance

"Alexander," Jackie protested weakly.

"Don't let them push your buttons." He placed his plate in the microwave and covered it. "Would you like some rice?"

"No, thank you," she answered automatically. "But we can't just–"

The front door closed behind Eddie; Jackie jolted. Alexander shrugged as if saying 'Problem solved' and started the microwave.

Jackie twirled the wrap from the Biscoff cupcake in her fingers.

"What did–" Her voice wavered. "What did Stephen say to you?"

"Nothing of importance." Alexander took a fork out of a drawer. "Are you sure you aren't hungry?"

"I just don't think that it was wise to treat either him and Eddie this way," Jackie continued stubbornly. "The whole thing yesterday was an accident. And also, it's understandable that she would be worried about–"

"Jackie, you need to stop this," he interrupted her brusquely, and she froze with her mouth half-open. Alexander flared his nostrils. "I get it, he's your ex. And for some reason everyone thinks he's this corker, and anyone would be so lucky as to be with him. But the two of them need to pull their shit together and solve their own aggro."

"I don't– don't think he's a corker," Jackie muttered.

Nothing changed in his face, but she could tell him that he got only more irritated.

"So, what did he say?" she repeated.

"A load of bollocks," he spat out. "Barged in my shop, self-righteous prick. His opinion doesn't matter. No one's does."

His plate thudded dully on the table. This made her jump up; since normally, his movements were deliberate and smooth. He sat down and poked his food. She'd never seen him that unintentional about his eating.

"Alexander," Jackie tried again.

He moved the fork on the plate; and then a low frustrated growl rumbled in his throat.

"Why do you care?" he asked, glowering. "Do you need his approval? His feedback on our relationship? Do you need his evaluation to form your own opinion?"

"What?" Jackie exclaimed. "That's not what it's about at all!"

"What then?"

"I– I don't know." Jackie tugged at the string of her hoodie. "I just– It just seems that he sees what happened between us completely differently. And I feel so guilty! And it's affecting his marriage too."

"It's none of your business," he retorted.

Jackie winced away, startled by the resentment in his voice. A wave of habitual shame and inadequacy washed over her; and then she remembered herself. She needed to give them both the benefit of the doubt: to Alexander, since it was highly unlikely that he was trying to lambaste her whole personality; and to herself - since she had the right to choose what she considered her business!

"Alexander, what are you angry about?" she asked softly. "I reckon, it's about the fact that we're forced to witness Stephen and Eddie's squabbles. Am I correct?" 

"I'm angry because you're letting them," he said and threw the fork down. "You invited him in last night, although I was here, and you were naked under your robe. You let her in today. Is it because she's his wife? Why is he special?"

"He's not!"

"If it were Rhys Holyoake here last night, you wouldn't have," Alexander said stubbornly. "Or your ex-husband. You don't pick up the phone when he calls. But you're readily available for Stephen Bassey."

"That's different!" Jackie cried out.

"Exactly." He was raising his voice now too. "Why?"

Jackie opened her mouth - and paused. Alexander's chest was rising in fast deep breaths.

"Because I owe Stephen this," she finally whispered. "I've always felt that I messed up then. And it turns out that I did. And I know Eddie just wants me to solve her problems; but I am the reason for their difficulties. Maybe they do need to grow up, like you said; but I'm at fault here. I need to talk to him."

"Fine." Alexander got up sharply and started packing the food from his plate into a fresh container. "Talk to him. Clear the air. And tell him to stop coming at me. Next time I won't hold back."

"What do you mean 'hold back?'" She watched him shove the food into the fridge. "Alexander, aren't you hungry? You should eat! But wait, what happened with Stephen after all? Did he– did he 'come at you?!'"

He closed the fridge and halted, his back to her.

"I'll go back to my flat tonight."

"What? Why– I mean, yes, of course!" Jackie hurriedly corrected herself. "Sorry, of course, if you want to– Or if there's something– Or if you want some space." 

She trailed away, muttering.

"Will you be alright?" he asked, without turning. "How is your face?"

"Of course I'll be alright! "

He sighed and shimmied his shoulders. 

"Call me if you need me to come back," he said gravely.

She didn't even have time to answer when he marched out of the kitchen. She could tell that he was moving in the bedroom and in the ensuite on the first floor now. She hadn't realised that so much of his stuff had found its way into her home, until she had to listen to him pick his things up and pack them into his bag.

One of the last therapists that Gabe had towed her to, at the end of their marriage, had been set on 'teaching them to fight.' They had been given exercises and had spent hours discussing possible scenarios and conflict-resolution techniques. Jackie had given up by then, and had accepted that having a proper argy-bargy with her partner was yet another skill that she would lack forever.

To think of it, she wasn't even sure that Alexander and she were having a row.

One thing for sure, this was the first time that Alexander wasn't spending the night by choice.

***

She gave herself two more days to recover. Her bruise didn't go yellow yet, but the backlog of papers to look at and questions to answer and decisions to make had grown almost unmanageable already.

She did her best covering the terrifying purple with make-up, and headed to school.

She also needed to do something with the habit of checking her phone every few minutes. Maybe Jackie should've listened to the therapist; since now she hadn't got the foggiest how to deal with this situation. After all, the lack of calls and texts - and Jackie's cold empty bed at night - hadn't been caused by an early dairy delivery the next day; or quick, overnight renovations in Sugar Cloud; or, for once, by another of Jackie's immature inconsiderate wobblies. This time, they were definitely having an argument; and it was on him.