Preamble
The story is fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this blog are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Nathan had learned that Kayla has a low tolerance to waiting. There was a time he wondered if she was a narcissist. He read up about narcissism. Much of the documentation covered NPD, narcissistic personality disorder. She did not have a personality disorder. That was obvious to him. He came to the conclusion that there are levels of narcissism, it's a continuum, not a binary choice. Kayla was perhaps high in narcissism. He could handle it. If one knows she dislikes waiting one allows for it. A simple adjustment.
Chapter 4
The plumbing will take another day. It would not unduly affect the overall time. In a renovation project there are always unforeseen obstacles. The outlet pipes were inadequate and had to be replaced. Fortunately replacing the bath was a minor job. The new bath was a freestanding unit and did not require being built in or to have the sides enclosed.
The morning sun was pleasant. The air outside was cold. Nathan sipped on his coffee looking out over the houses and towards the distant mountains. He enjoyed the view. It was strange that the veld looked black. The foliage, although green when one was up close, had a charcoal appearance from a distance. He supposed because of the shadows in the early morning ... there was more dark shadow than sunlit, green foliage.
He was not worried about the duration of the renovation. Kayla had indicated in her last telephone conversation that she was considering joining him before the work was completed. When she "considered" something it was normally an indication that she had all but made up her mind. He would discourage her from joining him earlier, but she did not like to be told what to do. She also did not like waiting. Not for anything. He needed to delay her arrival until after at least 80% of the work had been done. The plumbing will be completed today and the bulk of the painting probably by the middle of the following week. It was not a big concern. He just had to juggle between having her being inconvenienced by building work here and keeping her waiting there. He could manage it.
Early in their relationship he learned to not keep her waiting. He should have learned two important lessons that day, he thought to himself. Unfortunately he missed the second one. He remembered it as if it was yesterday. Kayla had an appointment with the GP. When they arrived at his practice she wanted Nathan to drop her at the entrance and pick her up later.
"Let's park the car and I go in with you and wait in the waiting room?" he suggested.
"Just drop me and come back in twenty minutes," she said sounding irritated. "When I'm done I'll come out and wait in the same spot where you drop me. You can just double park for me to get in."
Nathan was concerned things may not go as planned and asked, "Take your cell phone with you just in case?"
Kayla ignored the question. When she got out of the car she left the phone in the open glove compartment with her house keys and shopping list. He checked the time on the dashboard clock before driving off to find a place to park for 20 minutes.
He loosened his seat belt and rolled down the window. Leaning back in the seat he waited and began thinking of what may go wrong. Nathan had a bad feeling about this arrangement. He felt queasy. That was fear ... fear feelings coupled with not having options literally made him nauseous. Since childhood nausea was the signal his body gave him when he was in a corner and just knew it would end badly.
Strange, he was not fearful of difficult situations. Those he could handle. He had choices and accepting that the task was beyond him was also an option ... as long as he wasn't back against the wall with zero options. In childhood the nausea always had to do with things his mother told him to do, expected from him. Or the school bully. Or the unreasonable teacher. He loathed irrational. Even as a child he sought reason, thinking it would protect him. When his mother gave instructions or demanded he do something his fear was about what would come afterwards. He would have no say, no options, just had to follow instructions. Often there would be a less than perfect outcome and then the blaming would start and not stop till her mood settled. There was no room for reasoning or excuses. She just bulldozed on and he would just suffer the feeling of powerlessness as long as the badgering lasted.
Even if the outcome was good there would sometimes be some negative reaction from her. He felt like that again now, anticipating Kayla's anger if he were late at the pick up spot. Or she came out of the building sooner than 20 minutes, before he was there to pick her up. Or anything else went wrong. The nausea gripped him. He knew he would not throw up, but one has a reflexive feeling of revulsion when about to throw up. He felt the rush of saliva in his mouth, familiar sensations that came with his anxiety. He never actually vomited ... just hovered on the edge ... that's where he was in this moment. He waited for the symptoms to subside.
It was time to go. He double parked at "the spot" 17 minutes after dropping her. No sign of Kayla. He waited. Obstructing the traffic flow made him uncomfortable, but he stuck it out.
After some time he decided he needed to again park the car and then go in to inquire. The girl in reception told him the doctor wanted a blood analysis and Kayla was probably still at the pathologist just a few doors away. It was now almost 35 minutes since he dropped her at the entrance. He'd go check at the pathologist.
As he came out the building, there she was, waiting, visibly angry, "I told you to double park! Where's the car?"
"I did exactly as you told me," he defended while already walking in the direction of where he'd parked. "I double parked and waited and when you did not show up I took the car back into the parking area and then went inside to look for you."
"Here I'm standing like a fool, waiting!" she continued, louder, but not so that others would turn and stare. "Not knowing if you are coming or not! Or when!"
This was absurd ... he told her to take her phone for in case. They'd reached the car. He held the door open for her. She got in without saying thank you ... and with very angry body language. He walked around and got in. He was now angry too. It's absurd; she ignored his suggestions and when things went pear shaped it's his fault? No, this is ridiculous.
He reversed out of the parking space and started driving towards the exit. Kayla had not yet finished. "There I was ... not knowing where you are ... no phone. And Mr Bigshot leaves me hanging around waiting on the sidewalk!"
"Keily, please," he tried to defuse the situation. "We did not know about the blood specimen. It's nobody's fault. It's over. Please?"
"You treat me like rubbish and I must accept? You are the rubbish!" There it was again ... when she was in this mood she'd shift focus away from the actual subject, make it personal and hurl insults at him.
At this point he lost it completely and yelled at her. He yelled so loud it scared him. He did not do this kind of thing, yelling at people, but he was furious. The day was destroyed. They drove home in silence, both seething. He couldn't remember how long the cloud of anger and resentment hung over them. Definitely well into the next day. Eventually she came to him and said, "I don't like this heavy atmosphere. I'm going to put it behind me. Now."
That was it. He said nothing. He was glad she was no longer angry, happy to let it go. Puzzled but glad it was over. How could two people not resolve a simple thing like this? Blaming and yelling was destructive. It was lose-lose-lose; neither of them won and their relationship also suffered a body blow.
Thinking back on the incident now he realized, although he did get lesson one, don't let Kayla have to wait, he totally missed lesson two that was presented to him, you do not try to reason with angry Kayla ... keep quiet, walk away before you say anything. Trying to reason, arguing, saying anything will only make it worse. This is as good as it gets for this particular episode ... keep quiet. If you get blamed for silence, it's a new accusation, a new episode, and damage control may be easier. It took many arguments, many fights and much disillusionment before he finally learned that lesson.
He went to unlock the gate for the plumber. Nathan preferred to keep it locked most times. That way one knows who comes in and goes out. He'd contacted the painter and gave the go ahead for him to start today. Surface prep work that would not be affected by dust from the bathroom could start now. Most of the angle grinder work was done already anyway.
Munch went zooming around the yard when he picked up her leash. Nathan was happy. Why could he not, like a dog, run in circles when happy. No, his mind went immediately to vodka. Sometimes bourbon. The sequence was always ... happy ... celebrate ... alcohol. He quickly pushed away the idea of getting a bottle of alcohol. As a binge drinker he was constantly vigilant. This is how it starts, with a single thought. If he allowed the first thought to get traction the next thought would be, it's okay, just one, you will stop again. When he was disturbed he wanted to drink to numb out and when he was happy he wanted to drink to celebrate. It always ended badly; he'd feel he'd betrayed himself. Physically he'd be tired and hung over which made him pick up again in order to numb out against feeling dreadful. It would last for days and then he'd finally have the courage to pull himself together again and stop. There were no in between states ... he'd drink too much or be completely sober.
It was not difficult to resist the urge. He had a job to do. Get the house ready. Kayla will soon announce that she wanted to come home.
