send in the helicopters
continuation of: the beginning of the end
The path wasn’t wide-enough for the two of us to walk, not-touching, side by side. You strode down the middle of the path, looking straight ahead. Six inches to your left, our legs and strides the same length, I walked uncertainly on the grass verge. Watching my feet incase a dip or bump conspired with you to make me fall. You didn’t invite me onto the pavement or slow your pace to ease my stumbling. The tone of your walk clearly drawn to include no courtesy to me. The frosty grass crunched beneath my feet and headlights temporarily blinded me as we walked the mile in silence.
Like pulling a rug from under me, your few words had irrecovably changed memories from loving moments to contrived deceptions. Something inside me died. Years earlier we’d insured our escape from Lundy island for £5 incase the boat couldn’t land in a storm. A storm brewed, the helicopter rescued us. Now the magic rug had been pulled I wanted something more real, that helicopter, NOW. To be whirled away from the impending storm.
By the time we arrived at the pub, I understood that I had to leave you. I didn’t know when or how, but I knew it would happen. Perhaps that’s what you wanted. In employment contexts I believe they call it constructed dismissal:
- Your employer has committed a serious breach of contract
- You felt forced to leave because of that breach
- You have not done anything to suggest that you have accepted their breach or a change in employment conditions