being sian' - life with james

8/14/2019 'Being Sian' - Life With James

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‘Being Sian’

Life with James

James seems to have changed his mind about me. It’s nothing he actually

says or does, it’s the silent resentment that fills the air each day. The

highlight of our lives is pay day from the Dole every fortnight. James

shoots out the front door to seek out the real love of his life, a Speed

tablet or a small lump of Cannabis. Before we lived together like this, I

didn’t know the daily goings on of his life. Now it’s very noticeable, we’re

broke. It’s Friday and we have to scrape through till Monday, when wecan cash in our joint cheque book.

I don’t think we’re going to make it. There’s only fifteen pounds left and

James wants a fiver out of it to get tobacco with, and we have no food. I

decide to take the tenner left and see what food I can get with it, hoping it

will feed us for the weekend. The pay-as-you-go-electric meter is a cunt to

use. It only accepts a minimum of ten pounds on the charge key, and as

we’re down to the six pounds emergency reserve, it needs sixteen pounds

before it’ll give us anything back. That is not going to be possible on our

last ten pound note. I checked the meter; and it said £1.98 left. All I could

do was hope it would last.

I left James on the couch, staring at the T.V. and rolling a joint for himself.

He barely said goodbye to me as I left the flat in search of survival food,

like a female tiger without the support of her mate. In the supermarket, it

was impossible to find cheap food enough to last us for the weekend.

Even one day’s dinner for two people was going to cost £2.99 for themince meat, and then I had to buy spaghetti to go with it. For day two,

potatoes and veg were easily another fiver, and we also needed tea bags

and milk. I did my best, and returned home feeling slightly more

victorious, after succeeding in my mission, but I was alone in my euphoria;

James just ignored me.



3 “I got it all, just about.” I offered brightly, hoping to change his sour

mood.

“Mmm.” He barely managed to grunt back at me.

I gave up and started cooking. Halfway through, I took a break and sat

down next to him on the couch. I opened our last packet of crisps we’d

bought on the Friday just gone, when we had more money, and offered

him some. He refused, never taking his frowning face away from the

screen to look at me, clearly annoyed at my interruption. I joined him

watching the boring programme, crunching away at the packet, when

suddenly he spun around, glaring angrily.

“For FUCK sake, can’t you eat the fucking crisps on a plate or something, all

I can hear is crackling!”

I flinched away from him in shock.

“Okay, sorry I didn’t realise.” I faltered, scared at his anger.

He didn’t reply, turning back to the T.V instead in a sullen silence.

I returned to the cooker in a heavy cloud of pensive dread, wishing I could

sit down and relax instead, but at the same time, preferring this safer

place. I heaped spaghetti bolognaise onto two plates and brought them

slowly over to him, wondering whether I would be welcome on the couch

next to him now. He took a plate of food onto his lap, turning towards me

with a rare charming boyish smile of approval. Like a dog, I took my cue

from this and joined him, as we ate in mutual enjoyment of our starvation

dinner. The next day, at around three o’ clock in the afternoon, theelectricity went. The little bit of food I had bought with our last money,

went rotten in the fridge.

copyright@emmasharn2009

being sian' - life with james

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