1 Nov
Buy it
“I don’t buy it,” says Chris. “Buy what?” Dominique stirs the stew while keeping an ear open in case Frankie needs her. “Any of it. The logic behind emotions. The feeling out the justice of a thing. Every time I’ve followed my instinct I’ve only ever managed to … fuck shit up.”
Dominique lets the ladle swirl twice more — clockwise — before answering. “Sure, but don’t forget that your instinct is mostly controlled by your dick.” Chris half snorts. “Not since we had Frankie, Dom. Surely you understand that.” “Oh, I’m just teasing. Don’t take everything I say so seriously.”
She reverses direction — anticlockwise now. She knows she’s being unfair. She’s tired. Too tired to be reasonable. Too tired to ignore that nagging feeling that is ever more present since the birth.
The feeling that she has somehow split in two. Prematurely or… much too late. She can’t tell and it scares her.
“So what has got your instincts all tied up in a knot?” She steers the conversation back to Chris. This is how she hides.
“It’s something Maria said.” Chris scratches layers of doodles on the notepad lying next to Dominique’s laptop. She flinches ever so slightly when her partner mentions Maria’s name.
He spends more time analysing his best friend’s feelings than he does sharing his own. As he doodles and explains he lets her: Cook. Set the table. Dish the food. Warm the baby’s meal. Fetch her. Feed her. Feed herself. Do the dishes while Frankie sits in front of the TV, hypnotised by some YouTube ad. When she is done washing the pots she picks the baby up and starts cradling her. Only when Frankie is half asleep on her shoulder does Chris realise he is still drawing doodles on her notepad, talking about Maria and her mood disorder. He sets the pen down on the inked paper, dark scribbles texturing the page in intricate fractals.
“So yeah. I don’t buy her argument.” Chris is finally starting to eat the food she had dished up for him. Dominique realises too late she had no idea what the ‘argument’ was he had been explaining. She couldn’t listen and fume at the same time. She feels herself splitting — exhaustion feeding the shame and confusion she is already hiding from her partner.
“Well then tell her exactly that. Frankly I’m sick of hearing about it.” She leaves him there with his cold dinner and takes Frankie to her crib.
Chris takes his time chewing on his food. He is not ignorant of Dominique’s agitation. In fact, he finds it interesting in a detached way. Ever since dabbling in that potent combination of new age buddhism and copious psychedelics in his twenties he has retreated into a comfortable bubble of ‘equanimity and non-attachment’ that is in reality much colder: dissociation. For the most part, his life is a movie. The only part that feels real is Frankie. Becoming a father was terrifying but it gave the rest of the sitcom some meaning. Now he finds his protective instincts kicking in but it is trying to convince him of strange things, which is why Maria’s explanation of the logic of instinct and feelings has him wondering about the urges that have been driving his decisions of late.
He has been doing a lot of impulse buying and it bothers him. Spending money on things that are supposed to bring more ease and comfort to their lives but all it seems to do is create more clutter and confusion. He is also less patient with the hours he needs to spend at the office, investing time in building work relationships while he feels his relationship with his partner slipping into this strange rhythm of blame and regret.
Maria said that she had started to let her emotions guide her decision making and that she feels more grounded because of it. Why did it, in his case, only feed his growing sense of isolation? He cleans out his bowl and goes to his daughter’s room to give her a good night cuddle. He finds Dominique weeping over the crib. Frankie is still awake, silent as a mouse as she gazes at her mother and her tears.
“Hey darling. What on earth is the matter?” he asks as he holds Dominique’s tiny frame, trying to ease her sobbing. Dominique cannot express the confusion she is feeling — she is afraid of sounding hysterical. Being a bad mother. Being a jealous lover. She clings to Chris as she lets the emotions pour from her eyes — the ocean inside. If I let you see me like this, would you still accept me? she wants to ask. Chris is breathing deeply, keeping himself from jumping to conclusions. His detachment grows and Dominique can feel it. “What if I told you I am as interested in what you are feeling as you are in Maria’s arguments?” she asks, shifting the focus from her own turmoil again.
“I wouldn’t buy it,” he jokes, mirroring her insecurity without realising it.
In her crib, Frankie sighs. It’s going to be a long childhood.
