Not the Point

          I woke up to an empty house this morning. Annabell had already gone to work. My clerks never called last night which means I still have no work for today.

            After following the usual morning procedures I sat down in the living room and tried to decide what to do. Annabell had been on my computer again and that got me thinking about that bastard. Mark was his name. I started to wonder if she was going to see him for lunch today, or any time this week. He had suggested it. I tried to hack into her account using first the browser history and then random passwords I thought might work. I failed.

            It occurred to me that she would have other records lying around. I might find evidence somewhere else. I opened all her drawers and examined her bank statements and phone records. There were numbers that I didn’t recognise, and even a few withdrawals that I couldn’t logically place. What did it all add up to though? I had no idea. I tried to place it all back as it had been before I messed with it.

 

*

 

            Ed called around midday.

            “Where the hell are you Evans?”

            “Er… I’m at home.”

            “Fuck that. Is this the way you repay me? I just left my girlfriend for you.”

            “I asked you not to do that.”

            “Not the point, Evans, not the point at all. You owe me, and I expect to see you back here later.” He hung up.

 

*

 

            I spent the afternoon thinking about Annabell. It seemed things were getting better: we slept together! It was a sure sign.

            Except that it wasn’t. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Tonight was almost a carbon copy of yesterday. She arrived home, talked about her day, made dinner and then went to bed. This time there was no sex, only increasing anger.

            “Won’t you please just get it into your head that we’re done? Look, your being here just isn’t working. Either you move out or I will.”

            “Annabell! Please!”

            “No, Tom. I’m not talking about it any longer. I’m going to bed. Alone.”

            I have to admit it, she does seem serious. There’s got to be some way to get through to her though. I can’t give up. My colleagues, my mum, they’ll never let me forget it if I let a girl like this get away.