Mr. Commitment by Mike Gayle Read Free Book Online

a selfish pig. You have no respect for Mel or her feelings.”
    “And?”
    “You’re inconsiderate.”
    “And?”
    “You do that hateful thing where you roll your eyes.”
    “And?”
    “You put everything else that’s in your life before Mel.”
    “Errrrrrrrr!” I made the annoying quiz-buzzer-type noise from
Just a Minute
on Radio 4. “Repetition. I think you’ll find putting everything that’s in my life before Mel is the same as being selfish.”
    Julie scowled threateningly. She was officially angry now, which in an incredibly petty sort of way made me happy. “You
would
say that you—”
    “You don’t know anything about me, Julie,” I interrupted. “You just think you do. I do respect Mel and her feelings, I don’t put everything that’s in my life before her . . .” I paused briefly. “But I admit I do occasionally leave the toilet seat up, which might be interpreted as inconsiderate, and I definitely do that thing where I roll my eyes, but that doesn’t exactly make me Darth Vader in a pair of Levi’s, does it?”
    Julie screwed up her face angrily like a bulldog chewing a wasp. “I don’t know what she ever saw in you . . .” she began furiously, but then her voice trailed off.
Pants,
I thought nervously.
If she’s not going to tear me to pieces maybe she is going to have sex with me after all.
Fortunately I soon discovered what had stopped her outburst so abruptly. It was Mel.
    “Oh, please, you two,” sighed Mel. “Can’t you ever just give it a rest?”
    Like a petulant child Julie threw a thunderous “It was all his fault” glance in my direction while I cranked my ever-so-angelic smile up in the hope it would make Julie melt, or combust, or whatever it is that vampires do when they’ve been defeated.
    Mel was wearing her it’s-Saturday-therefore-I-shop clothes—jeans, white T-shirt, and a long thick woollen hooded top. She’d had a haircut, too, and it made her face look that little bit more beautiful. I resisted a genuine compulsion to tell her that she looked stunning, because I knew she’d only think I was trying to flatter her. So instead I smiled warmly, hoping that the upward curling of the corners of my lips would somehow convey my keen appreciation. Mel didn’t return my smile, though. Her expression revealed neither approval nor disapproval of my appearance in her hallway, although the manner in which she sat wearily on the bottom stair was a strong indicator that I was far from being back in favor.
    “How are you?” she said abruptly.
    “Okay,” I mumbled. “How are you?”
    Silence.
    “How’s work?”
    Silence.
    I hated arguments like this. I wanted her to stop being angry with me. “I love you, you know,” I said, kneeling down in front of her.
    “So you say.” She took off her jacket. “Is that all you came to tell me?”
    I looked into her eyes, trying to find the real her. The Mel sitting in front of me was Hard Mel, an alter ego she sometimes utilized to stop herself from forgiving me when she knew she really shouldn’t. It was true that she was too forgiving and perhaps I did deserve the harsh treatment I was receiving, but even so, I thought this was a bit much. The offense of Not Knowing When to Marry Your Long-term Girlfriend was new legislation and I felt quite strongly that the marathon begging, shuffling and scraping I’d done in the past week was more than recompense.
    So I waited, saying nothing. The silence was so uncomfortable even Julie felt the need to disappear upstairs to Mel’s flat on the pretext of getting a glass of water. The longer I said nothing, the more Hard Mel stared through me like I didn’t exist. Soon whatever regret I had about the way I’d treated Mel was swallowed up whole by resentment. What I’d done wrong was no longer the point. It wasn’t about apology, making up or explanation. All that counted now was winning.
    “This is pointless.” I sighed. “You’re not in the right mood to talk. Okay. I’ll