Tell Me I'm Wrong

Chapter 3

3 Chris

My walk home is taken up by thoughts. Always the thoughts. That’s why I go fishing in the first place. Although I’m left alone with my mind, I’m far calmer. I tend to feel more peaceful.

There’s never much to catch down there, but that’s not the point. Sprats and tiddlers, mostly. Further downstream there’s a lot more, but there’s also a lot more people. Around the part I fish, there’s no-one. No walkers, either. They tend to be around the village end, where it’s more of a stream. I like the solitude. It’s my escape. I’ve got my own little spot, where I’m quite happy to just sit and watch the sun move across the sky, occasionally feeling the slightest pull on my rod as I catch something.

I throw the fish straight back, provided they survive being reeled in. There wouldn’t be much point in keeping these, anyway. It’d be quicker and cheaper to just go out and buy a tin of anchovies.

It’s the peace and quiet I like. A place where I’m not prey to the pressures of work or the stress of being at home. It shouldn’t be that way, I know, but at the moment it is, and a man’s got to have his hiding place.

I think I’m calmer for it. There have been times over the past few months when I really wanted to just shout at Megan. I don’t know if it’s some form of post-natal depression or if she’s just being too self-centred. All I know is she’s not dealing with things very well. I try to do my bit, but it’s not always that easy. If Megan’s at home with Evie, I try to be there. Especially if she’s not coping.

Her parents have been great. They know we both need our space. They’ve been taking Evie a couple of days a week so we can have our own time and to relax a little. It’ll be for the best in the long run. Then, once Evie’s sleeping better and eating solids we’ll be able to get back to how we were. It just takes a little adjustment time.

I get the impression Megan resents me for coming here. I always have to bite my tongue and not mention the fact that it’s usually me who gets up in the middle of the night when Evie’s crying. And I’m the one who’s up early. I’m the one who gives her her baths. But Megan doesn’t see it that way. She just sees me popping out for a few hours and acts as if that’s all I do. C’est la vie.

Things will work themselves out. They always do. Megan and I have been together long enough to know that. We’ve been together since school, so if we don’t know each other now we never will. We’ll muddle through. I said as much to Megan a couple of days ago. She gave me that face she always gives me. The face that says expressing an opinion would make a nice change. The face that says she’d like me to be more determined and forceful. But that’s just not me.

None of us can be something we’re not. We’d just come across as false. And yeah, my way of dealing with things is to distance myself from them and wait until things blow over. But that’s because it usually works. I don’t do arguments. Never have, never will. I think I get that from my parents. They’re both incredibly placid. Dad was. Mum and George, my step-dad get on like a house on fire. I personally can’t stand the man, but even to this day I’ve never heard them have an argument or even a disagreement. I don’t think I’ve actually heard my mum express an opinion on anything. She just is, and that’s what I love about her. I can rely on her to be there, and not to judge.

Megan’s parents aren’t quite the same. Her mum, in particular, is much more open with her opinions. She’ll happily tell people she’d do things differently, even if they haven’t asked for her input or advice. And that’s not to mention her magical knack for always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and managing to become the most insensitive person in the world.

Her dad tends to take more of a backseat. I imagine it’s a case of having to. I guess we’re both quite similar in many ways, which is why we’ve tended to get on. I get on with her mum too, but it’s usually a case of putting up with her as opposed to actively liking her.

I look at my watch. Half four. Mum will have dropped Evie back at the house by now. Megan’s going to need a hand and I’m keen to do my bit; I just need my own space and time while I can get it. I can feel myself getting more and more short-tempered all the time, and that’s not going to be good for anyone, least of all Megan and Evie.

I tend to pack light when I come out fishing. If you go further downstream, there are guys with whole trucks full of stuff. Some of them look like they’re drilling for oil. I’m a purist, though. A cheap rod, some bait and a fold-up chair does me nicely. Besides which, it’s a lot to carry when you’re walking. One of the added benefits is it doesn’t take me long to set up or pack away, either. More time to myself. More time to escape.

Escapism goes a long way, and it comes in many shapes and forms. That’s not something that’s easily explained to many people, though. Sometimes things aren’t black and white. Whilst one person might find something wrong or immoral, to someone else it’s just escapism. Horses for courses. One man’s rubbish is another man’s gold.

I have my own form of escapism, besides fishing. But that’s not something I can tell Megan. Right now I don’t think I can tell Megan anything. We’ve always been pretty close, but sometimes there are things a husband needs to keep from his wife. Beyond that, sometimes there are things a person needs to keep entirely to himself. After all, we all have our own secrets, don’t we?