NIGHT VOICES

“You can’t even keep her warm,” whispered a voice in the dark. I rolled over and buried my face in the thin duvet I’d been left with. It was cold. Next me to me, Sammy, wrapped up in every piece of sheet, duvet, pillow I could find, was shivering herself to sleep.

We’re still waiting for our house. If nothing happens today or tomorrow to unblock the paperwork at the top of the chain, then we are having our first Christmas together in someone else’s home, under someone else’s feet, with a pot-plant tree and a string of battery-powered fairy lights. And it is freezing.

The other day I asked my accountability pals whether they shouldered the burden of big decisions as the men in their marriages. As I was asking it, it seemed like such an old-fashioned question; a thought that had surfaced from the dark ages of misogyny when we used to agree that men were the head of the house. I don’t even know why I asked it! My friends talked about ‘division of labour’, and about how it’s important to carry things together, but also submit to each other’s strengths. I stopped short of telling them about the night voices.

“Pathetic husband, useless man. Your dad wouldn’t have let this happen.”

“I am a child of God,” I whispered back, silently, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I am doing my best. I am… a good man…” It was all I had. I was weeping with tiredness.

I threw an arm around the shuddering cocoon of duvet and stroked the cold head that was exposed to the pillows. It was uncomfortable but at least it was a bit warmer for her. I don’t feel the cold like she does, so I was okay, but there was no way to go to sleep like that: all the angles were wrong.

All the angles were wrong. The cold, uncomfortable elbow, shoulder, ribs, knee. And the sharp voices that like the darkness so much. They are wrong though, I thought as I watched the shadows on the ceiling; my dad would have done the same thing in this situation, and I am far from useless or pathetic at this difficult assignment. I’m learning. And we’re waiting for a story that has been hard-fought-for, long awaited, and beautiful. And even in the middle of the night I knew, I know, I keep knowing: morning is coming.