Stop Seeing Her! By C.p.Singleton. ©2012
‘I want you to stop seeing her!’ Sarah said angrily.
Cameron could not believe he was having this row again.
He had been asleep, hadn’t he? He was sure for one moment that the warm, motherly hands of dreamland had hugged him gently.
He opened his tired eyes to the night -shrouded room. The silhouette of her face was hovering close to his.
He jumped slightly.
‘Don’t pretend you were asleep.’ She said.
‘I was a-fucking-sleep.’
His eyes began to slowly focus into the near-dark. The faint orange glow of the lamp-light, up the street, filtering through the bedroom curtains, lent him the ability to pick out her taught features.
‘Whatever,’ she began sternly. ‘I want you to stop seeing her.’
‘Have we not gone over this?’ He replied, sitting up with the weight of exhaustion fighting his shoulders. ‘From seven O’clock last night to…’
Cameron checked the time on the bedside digital clock.
‘…Fucking three O’clock in the morning!’ He told her, his voice rising with each syllable. ‘Why can’t we just drop this?’
‘Because it’s not right. You have me and my kids, what do you need to see her for?’
‘You know why, Sarah.’
Cameron rubbed his face and then through his short, dark, hair in frustration. This had been going on for far too long.
‘We were fine until she turned up.’ Sarah mumbled and flopped back against her pillow like a stroppy child.
‘No, we weren’t.’ Cameron replied. ‘We weren’t fine, Sarah. You were fine. I could never get her out of my head. There’s always been something you’ve wanted me to change. I stopped going out with my mates for you. I stopped going to football on Saturdays for you. I took your kids on…’
‘No buts, Sarah. I have given up a lot for us. Without a single complaint. All I ask is this one thing.’
‘It’s not one thing. You see her every bloody Sunday!’
‘It’s not every Sunday. I didn’t see her last Sunday.’
‘Oooh, One bloody Sunday missed.’
‘I spend all week with you and the kids. We eat together. We watch fucking telly together. We go shopping together. For fuck’s sake Sarah!’
‘There’s no need to shout, Cameron, the kids have school in the morning.’
‘Really? I have work in the morning, but that doesn’t stop you keeping me awake with this shit.’
‘I just want you to stop seeing her.’
‘Why?! She’s my daughter, Sarah. ‘
Cameron’s accustomed eyes flicked around the room and settled on the suitcase, sitting on top of the wardrobe.
He sighed heavily. For the first time in a long time he imagined himself filling it with…
‘I asked you why,’ Sarah hissed insistently.
‘Because of her bleedin’ mother I had no contact with her for nearly twenty years…’
‘You can’t make up for that, by indulging her.’
‘I can try, Sarah! You’re a mother, surely you should understand!’
‘You’re shouting again!’
Cameron shook his tired head, threw himself out of bed and stomped towards the curtained window.
‘I can’t carry on like this, Sarah. We can’t go on like this.’
‘Are you choosing her over us?’
‘Sarah,’ sighed Cameron. ‘I only want to see my daughter.’
He poked his head through the thin curtain and looked out at the cold, quiet night outside. It seemed to calm him. The normally busy street was still. The cars parked in neat, sleepy rows.
‘I don’t want to lose you, Cam’.
Cameron watched next door’s tabby hop, gracefully, over his garden gate. Thick flakes fluttered out of the heavy sky and began to softly blot the pathways and road.
‘I don’t want to lose you, either, Sarah, but you need to stop this…this…jealousy.’ Cameron told her, whilst pressing his head against the cold window-pain.
‘You think I’m jealous of her?’
‘Yes. Yes I do,’ Cameron turned away from the quiet scene, outside. ‘God knows why, but I need you to stop and let me see my daughter. Get to know her. Let her get to know the kids.’
‘You should have enough with me and the kids.’
He now knew this would never end.
The doorbell rang loudly.
After a few moments heavy footsteps could be heard descending stairs.
The door was carefully opened.
‘Could I stay the night, please Rach’?.’ Cameron asked, shaking with the cold. ‘We’ve split up.’
His coat and woolly hat were thick with snow.
‘’Course you can, Dad. Come in. You must be freezing.’
Cameron shook off the snow, banged his shoes on the door-frame and entered the warm house.
‘What happened, Dad? Surely whatever it is it can be fixed?’ Rachael asked him, as she closed the door on the cold, white night, careful to keep the smile from her face until her father’s back was to her.