5th January 2002

I would be a liar if I said I don’t have bad days.

Everyone has bad days right?

Some days, however, are worse than others.

I woke up feeling like the war to end all wars was pounding through my brain. I’d tried drinking the usual gallon or two of water to try flushing the tequilas and other toxic junk from my gut but the water was just making me feel like chucking my guts without giving me that blessed release.

Duan walked into the house at about one in the afternoon. I said I was sorry for being so out of it. She said it was all right. I asked if she’d had a good time. She looked down at the carpet. The carpet was green.

“I’m moving out.” She said.

I didn’t say anything.

“It’s no-one else. I just want to live on my own. I don’t want to live with a man anymore.”

“What about…”

“It’s up to you. He can stay with you if you want. Or I can take him with me.”

“It’s probably better if he stays with me.”

“I can’t go now. I have to find somewhere.”

“So that’s it. You’re sure?” I said. She walked into the kitchen and started pottering around as if this would help make everything easier.

I waited a few moments and watched the world divide into multicoloured spots and dark clouds as I heard dishes clink against dishes. I walked into the kitchen after her and she was standing looking out the window.

“Do you want me to tell him or are you going to?” I said.

“Up to you.”

“Up to me.”

“Yes. Up to you. Everything’s up to you.”

“So you don’t give a fuck about your son?”

“If that’s what you want to think.”

“I don’t want any of this. You’re the one who has to get away.”

She laughed a sardonic laugh which I took to imply she felt I was at fault. “Yes. That’s it. Is me. I want this. It’s all me. I’m bad woman. I don’t care my son. You happy?”

“I’m about as far from happy as I’ve ever been in my entire fucking life.”

She cried a bit. I walked away. I felt sick. The tequilas were still sitting like sandpaper in my throat. They’d been each way through it. I was aching all over. I didn’t know whether I wanted to take a shit or jump out a window or beat the crap out of her. It was one of those moments where there is no way out.

The details blur for a while but eventually we were back in the living room and I said “You must love this guy a lot.”

“There’s no guy. I just want to be on my own.”

“Yeah. Of course you do. You must think I’m so fucking stupid.”

She put the kettle on and said “You want tea?”

“Please.”

“What time you going to pick him up?”

“Soon.”

“I’m going to Nina’s. Maybe I sleep there tonight.”

“Nina’s eh?”

“Yes. You can call me there if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. I believe everything you tell me. I believe you when you say you’re going out with your friends. I believe that you took your ring off because it was too tight. I believe all kinds of shit.”

“And what about you? How many times you lie to me before when you with Ao?”

“Not nearly enough.”

She went back into the kitchen and came back with tea. “After I move out I’ll still come and cook.”

“Sure.” I said. I think she even believed this. She believed that things might still be okay. You can just walk away from everything and yet have nothing really change.

We didn’t speak much more. I went to pick up our son. I told my friends everything. They could see I was gutted and let the kids play a while as I rambled on in the self indulgent manner of anyone whose life has just collapsed. When I brought my son home Duan was gone and I tried to explain things as best as I could. We ended up playing on the Playstation until we both fell asleep.

Seven years of marriage ended and a family broken in one day exactly five years ago today.

Not a story perhaps.

But it does kind of mark the end of one.

I’d married Duan in Prakanong. I’d seen her through heroin withdrawal. I’d held her hand as her mother burned in an open casket sending thick black smoke into the air and into my eyes. I’d seen her moving from Thai life to English life and switch from someone who worked with farang to someone who worked as a chef. When she moved from Bangkok to London she became part of the Thai community making food for monks on Sunday mornings. When we moved from London to Oxford she fell in with the bored wives who missed dancing on bars and being desired.

Change was always easy for Duan.

Our divorce became absolute on the morning of my fortieth birthday.