And so he came unto us...

And he was a twat.

Ugh. R's husband is here. I think she should divorce him, but she won't. She's in love with him. She was floating round on cloud nine today, laughing, waltzing around the kitchen. Smiling and showing all her teeth. She hasn't done that in a long time. Is it because she loves him, or because she thinks she's won him back?

She had to pick up H from the metro, and so I had to open the door to him whilst she was away. He's brought a huge suitcase with him. He'll be staying a while. 'Open the door for him', were her words, 'il ne va pas s'attarder a venir'. Unlike all those years after you were ill, when he was late in coming. He never came, in fact. Now, however, you're healthy. You're pretty, and so he's come back. I have to open the door, because when he wants to come, he can. It's that easy for him. It's so unfair. Why is he allowed to run off with another woman, leave you and come back, as though nothing had happened? Why do you make such an effort for him? He doesn't deserve it. I want to scream at him. 'Tu n'es bien a rien, tu n'es pas suffisament bien pour lecher ses bottines, pauvre con. Caisse toi. Va te faire foutre, parce qu'elle puisse faire beaucoup mieux que toi. Tu penses que tu puisses juste revenir, comme ca? Tu ne merites rien. Tu l'as laisse, tu l'as double et la, tu veux revenir. Pensent que tes airs de grand philosophe, de grand conoisseur de politique vont l'entrainer. Peut-etre. Mais, quant a moi, je sais toujours que tu es miserable, un miserable petit homme qui est lache, plein de couardise. R, elle vaut 10 de toi. Va te faire voir, encule de ta race'. I could say it all. I'd shout it, so that he could hear. I'd enjoy those words, and I'd pronounce them perfectly. He'd have no problems understanding my meaning.

It might be different. I don't know how they speak between themselves, what they discuss or what they don't. I've never heard R shout at him, though. He comes back, the house is cleaned, food is prepared. I wanted to tell him that he was lucky to have crossed the threshold. I wanted to tell him that he wasn't fit to lick her boots. He came in, with his suitcase, and I didn't say any of this. I didn't smile, but I offered him tea. I am English. I gave him green tea when he asked for it. I imagined putting arsenic in it. There he was, awkwardly making conversation with me. He can't hear well, and my English accent troubles him.

I open the door
I let him in
He stands
On the old terrain
With a new opponent

I make him weak tea
Unsmiling
Imagining riotous words
That I roll under my tongue
For R
I roll for R.

Je roule pour toi. Donc je retiens ma langue.