Bad Things Happen(Kristin Dockar) Bad things happen

‘I’m pregnant. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not yours’.
The words harshly spoken by the woman he thought loves him.
You think bad things won’t happen to you but they do. You go along in your life doing the right things, working hard, saving, being kind and then this.
Milo sat in the pub, nursing a beer, fighting the tears that burnt behind his eyelids. He kept having to clear his throat. Dublin is one of the most exciting cities in the world, always something happening, somewhere to go. But today it feels like the loneliest place to be.
Then he notices his foot is tapping. The band are playing. True traditional Irish pub music with the odd cover version thrown in. This is where they’d met and had so many happy times.
‘Well, something’s getting through even if it’s only the music’.

Milo has sat in a frozen state for three hours now. The lunchtime trade is coming in and the bartenders have been giving him strange looks. Eventually one of them has come over.
‘You alright mate?’
‘Yeah, sure I am. Just had a bit of bad luck with the ladies’.
That ‘bit of bad luck’ as he put it, has deadened everything within him.
They had woken up this morning and were getting ready for work. He to a pre-term meeting, Mary to her upmarket job in advertising.
Suddenly she had rushed to the bathroom and he heard her being sick.
He’d called through the bathroom door, with genuine concern, to ask if she was ok? Could he do anything? Had she eaten something bad or been near anybody at work who was unwell?
When she emerged, ashen faced, she had looked at him and told him.
Milo felt his world crash around him. He hadn’t felt angry, just stunned, purely shocked and heart broken. He’d looked at this woman who he had known for some six years. Still lovely with her black hair and dark blue eyes, pure Celtic looking in every aspect.
‘Don’t look at me like that’ she had snapped. ‘I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want anything that goes with it’.
Milo, puzzled and still completely shocked had asked ’But who? Whose is it?’
Classic reply, ‘My boss, Sean. Happened at the Christmas party. Drunk, off my head. I have no excuses and I’m not going to lie to you. As I said I have no intention of having this baby. That’s not what I’m about’.
Again, Milo stared at Mary completely puzzled. ‘Who was this woman? They had been partners for four years now. They had not rushed into anything, dating for some two years before officially moving in together. Mary, always so organised, had told him she wanted to be quite sure before taking such a big step.
True, it wasn’t as exciting as it once was but they had seemed happy enough. He knew she thought he should be more ambitious but he was happy in his work. He loved making a difference to the children he taught and it was fun to be with them. He had always known the strength of Mary’s ambition. It was to have her own company and he would have supported her all the way. But this. It was pure betrayal. He couldn’t think what to do, so he’d picked up his coat and walked out. Thank the lord that term hadn’t started yet. He would find an excuse to miss the staff meeting. God knows he felt ill enough. His stomach churned and his head was banging.
Now as he sat in the pub, he saw she had texted:
What do you want to do? Shall I move out?
‘Yes’ he texted back, ‘ because bad things do happen and you have to deal with it’.
The band were playing a cover version of an old ABC hit ‘Poison Arrow’
How appropriate he thought as he listened to the words:
‘Who broke my heart,
You did, you did,
Shoot that poison arrow to my heart’.

Picking up his coat, and pulling on his beanie, Milo gave a nod to the bar staff and walked out into the cold January afternoon. He really didn’t want to go back to the flat, unsure how soon Mary would leave.
First stop would have to be the letting agent to end the tenancy and register for a new flat. He just couldn’t stay where he was, too many reminders and memories.
Back at the flat, Mary was packing her stuff into cases and bags. She refused to cry, harshly telling herself that it was her own fault. But somewhere in her head, she was experiencing relief. Things had plateaued between her and Milo and she should have been honest enough to admit that.
Once packed she left the keys on the kitchen counter and texted him:
‘Have left. Keys on the counter. Sorry’.

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