The Man I Married

by Elena Wilkes

  His head bobbed. ‘Yes, the children, the family; you’re exactly right to make the distinction. Not my children or my family.’

  I stared at the crown of his head. ‘What are you saying?’

  He sighed, the breath catching in his throat. ‘The kids. They weren’t mine.’

  He waved a hand wearily. ‘Oh yeah, they were passed off as mine all the time I was providing a house and a car and an income, but once the father, the real father, finally decided he wanted her, then she told me the truth in the four words that no one wants to hear. They are not yours.’

  I tried and failed and tried again to process what he was saying.

  ‘The problem with our relationship was…’ his fists clenched and released, squeezing the words out. ‘The whole crux of it was… I loved her more than she loved me. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.’ His voice broke and he dropped his head further. ‘I couldn’t believe that someone like her had looked twice at someone like me.’

  The wound in my heart tore wide in the face of this unguarded, drunken, simple truth, and I bled, internally, profusely. I stood looking down at him with a hard hurt of pain in the back of my throat. I was terribly tired all of a sudden, as though I could’ve dropped to the floor right there at his feet, curled up and shut my eyes and just stopped the world from ever touching me again.

  ‘Jesus. Jesus.’ His voice trembled. ‘You’re right, I couldn’t stand the humiliation, the indignity of explaining all that, so you’re absolutely right – I lied.’ He nodded slowly. ‘And now I’m going to pay the price for that, because you’re going to leave me too. Fuck…’ He almost laughed. ‘The irony of it. The things you’ve been accusing me of… Seeing Caitlin?’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘If you had any idea. The truth is, I wouldn’t touch her if she was the last woman on earth. I mean, can you imagine?’ He lifted his head. His eyes were full of pain. ‘After what she did? What kind of mug would I be, eh?’ He laughed again. ‘You’ve got it though, you’ve sussed me. I am the kind of mug that would lose you – the one woman who has healed that massive hole in my heart. The one woman I would actually consider having my own family with… But what do I do?… I balls it up because I’m a coward… Brilliant. Perfect.’ His eyes bored into mine for a second and then his head sagged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Really sorry, about everything. The only good thing is…’ he shook his head sadly. ‘It really can’t get any worse. For either of us.’ He reached out and touched my hand. I didn’t pull away.

  I couldn’t find the words for the questions I needed to ask.

  ‘You know, as soon as I got to the train station yesterday I thought about you, here, unwell, and I thought what am I doing? Seriously? I’ve got my priorities wrong, I’m there, on the piss with the blokes, doing what men do when they go on conferences, and all the time I just kept thinking of you…’ His voice cracked. ‘And now it’s all too late—’

  ‘I’ll make some tea.’ It seemed such a ridiculous thing to say.

  His leather jacket creaked obtrusively as he tried to take it off. His face, crumpled with concentration, frowned and then brightened. ‘Let me. You’re not well… You shouldn’t be even on that foot—’

  I didn’t answer. I watched as he struggled to remove the jacket, his clumsy fingers attempting the zip but not managing as they closed precisely and slowly around empty air. The tea could wait. I went and stood by him patiently, watching the crown of his head tip and judder, his hair lank with wet and grease, flopping forward in the struggle. He pushed it back with unsteady fingers.

  ‘I was so pleased to be coming home – And then when I saw the back door was open and I couldn’t see you, I thought… I thought you’d gone… Poof…’ his hands bounced and exploded apart.

  I pulled his jacket from his shoulders and started on his shoes. He let me push him backwards on to the sofa, and I pulled the rug up over his shoulders. He turned over onto his side. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Nice. Warm.’ He looked up at me for the first time. His grey eyes looked huge in his face. ‘Thanks for doing this. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you’re just being a decent person. So, just… thanks.’ His eyes batted lazily for a second and then opened and looked at me.

  ‘By the way. There is no scarf.’ He slurred a little. ‘Check my bag, check ev’where.’ His hand waved. ‘Why would I do that? There is. No. Scarf.’

  A whole wash of hurt and affection and concern and some other emotion I couldn’t name came over me. I sat next to him on the sofa, tea forgotten, watching the drifting paralysis of alcohol take him, the hypnotic flakes stroking his face, drawing him down. I was helpless to control any of this; I had no part to play. The drink in him flexed and twitched, running through his veins, keeping him falling. His body relaxed into a smooth gentleness that made me want to kiss him. Another tremor passed quickly through his shoulders and he sunk down into another level.

  ‘Paul?’ I waited. ‘Are you awake?’

  But there was only the soft slur of his breathing. I got up very gently, bending to pick up his jacket, aware of the weight of something in the pocket banging against my shin. Putting my hand inside, my fingers closed around the hard rectangle of his phone. I scanned his face for a moment and then slipped quietly into the hallway. I had almost got to the kitchen door when the vibration nearly made me drop the thing. The screen flashed white.

  We had to meet. U’ve always known we would.

  You and me. Bound 2gether for life. Neither of us can ever 4get

  Caitlin

  Then it locked.

  My heart stopped. The words imprinted themselves into my eyes as I slid the phone back into his pocket.

  There he was, his mouth slightly open, the cheeks sagging with the booze and I saw him for the flawed, selfish, plausible liar he was.

  I’d believed what I’d wanted to believe; what it had suited me to believe. The truth had been in front of me the whole time. My gut had told me I was right all along and I’d continually questioned it. But there were no questions now. I knew.

  * * *

  I was suddenly very calm. He knew. I knew. I would wait for Paul to wake up. I’d make tea for us both, sit down and I would tell him, carefully and perfectly calmly, that I needed to go away for a while. There would be no histrionics, no screaming, no blame or accusations. I would explain and he would have to let me go.

  I went up and packed the rest of my things before going to stand in the shower, eyes closed against the heat, feeling the gush of the water. Steam billowed in great clouds and condensed across the ceiling. It felt so good.

  I’d rung Emma and given her a sanitized version of events, telling her that Paul had come back a bit the worse for wear. ‘Still hung-over from the night before then?’ she tutted, chuckling. I hadn’t said anything about the photographs or the text messages, or his furious drunken accusations. I didn’t mention leaving – Once I was settled in a new place, I’d tell her what had really happened, the whole story. Part of me wondered if she’d believe me.

  I heard the click of the door handle and felt a vague surprise. Through the heavy steam I saw Paul’s outline dipping and lumbering on the other side of the glass. I wiped a hand across the shower screen but it immediately fogged back up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He swayed a little.

  ‘Nothing. I’ll talk to you in a minute.’

  ‘Why are you showering?’ He moved on the other side of the glass, I saw him bend unsteadily and turn.

  I didn’t answer, twisting round on one leg to turn off the tap.

  ‘Why… Are you… Showering?’ He laboured over the words.

  I reached for the wall. ‘For God’s sake, Paul! Could you just—’

  The door to the shower shunted open and I half spun in alarm as he stepped in naked beside me. He pulled the door shut. There was no way past him.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  He looked at me. There was something dead behind his eyes.

  ‘I want the tr
uth.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘There’s massage oil downstairs, all kinds of stuff. You’d forgotten to hide it.’

  ‘Hide? Hide what?’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know, you see.’ He leaned in, tapping his nose. ‘When people are lying. I can tell. Soon as I walked into the house, I could smell it on you. There was something odd going on, something that you were hiding.’ Lurching slightly, he grabbed at my face. ‘I knew you were trying cover something up.’ He tipped my chin back and stared into my eyes. ‘I could see it.’ I tried to snatch away. ‘See?’

  I tried to push his hands off. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re on about! The oil is Emma’s, we were—’

  He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Emma? For fuck’s sake! She’s probably in on the whole fucking thing! You expect me to fall for that one?’ His mouth twisted horribly, his fingers dug hard into my cheeks.

  ‘Get off me!’ I tried to sound forceful, but the fear ramped up wildly as I attempted to fight him off. He had me caught.

  ‘And now you’re showering. Showering off the stink of him, are you?’ his teeth bared in a weird grimace.

  ‘For Christ’s – Paul! Stop! I—’ But my throat wouldn’t let the words out. I struggled in terror as his hands raked all over me. He breathed me in, burying his face in my neck, snuffling wetly as his fingers looped around my wrist.

  ‘Tell me what you’re hiding Lucy. Go on, tell me.’

  I was pressed up against the back wall of the shower, his knee forcing its way between my thighs.

  ‘Go on,’ he whispered.

  I made a little strangled cry, elbowing and floundering madly at his face and he released me suddenly, staring wide-eyed into my face as though he’d just woken.

  ‘What the—?’

  I found I couldn’t get my breath in the oppressive heat, the gagging humidity, the water blinding me as it streamed down my face. Hands flailing, I tumbled shaking out onto the floor.

  ‘Jesus, Lucy! What is it?’ He grappled with the shower control as I crawled around the floor shivering, casting frantically about for the towel.

  ‘Lucy, please! For God’s sake! What’s the matter?’ He crouched, reaching for me, his face full of concern.

  ‘You know what the matter is!’ I instinctively shied away from his touch. ‘Get off me! Get off!’ I shrieked.

  ‘What? What?’ He straightened, stepping back in alarm, his hands raised in surrender. ‘Talk to me! What’s going on?’ He appeared instantly sober. ‘I thought—’

  I pulled a bath sheet from the cupboard and wrapped it tightly around me. ‘I’m warning you,’ I said slowly. ‘Don’t you dare come anywhere near me.’

  His hands waved in mid-air. ‘I promise I won’t, I promise… Look, I’m keeping right over here… but could I please get a towel?’ He grinned lamely and slowly reached for a towel from the rack, looping it around his waist. ‘There… Look. See?… It’s just me. Same old me.’

  I backed out of the bathroom. ‘Stay in there,’ I ordered. ‘Don’t you dare move.’

  ‘I’m not moving, I’m not moving!’ He stood there, wide-eyed.

  Grabbing clothes from anywhere, I desperately pulled them on, itching to feel covered, desperate to feel safe. Paul stood on the landing watching me, a strange enquiring look on his face.

  ‘Lucy, what just happened? Are you okay? One minute we were—’ his head swung slowly in amazement.

  I couldn’t answer him. Pulling on my shoes, I winced as the wound in my foot stabbed and throbbed. ‘I don’t know what is going on with you, but I want… I want you to keep the fuck away. I want you gone… Gone! D’you hear me? Out of my life, you… you understand me? Yeah?’ The words stuttered from between my lips. My heart was juddering, my legs were shaking. It was anger and aggression and terror, all rolled into one. My things were downstairs; I had this acute over-riding panic he was going to try and stop me.

  But he only stood, looking in amazement. ‘You mean you’re really leaving? You’re not serious? Luce? I thought… I thought after we spoke, you… that is, we were—’ He went to step forward but I turned and ran, hobbling as quickly as I could down the stairs. Grabbing my bags, I stumbled out of the front door as great gulping sobs racked my whole body. I was shaking uncontrollably, glancing round, terrified that he could be right behind me as the rain pelted and soaked into my clothes.

  I floundered, fishing for my car keys and fell into the driver’s seat. The pain seared, arcing through my foot as I revved the engine into life and accelerated hard. The wheels slipped and spun, churning up the wet gravel. I glanced back once. He was standing calmly in the doorway, framed like a mannequin, his hands hanging at his sides. My whole body was rigid with fear, screaming to get out of there as I dragged the wheel round and backed off the drive.

  ‘Lucy!’ His voice called out. I snapped a look round. He had raised one hand as if waving a guest goodbye. He was standing absolutely still: a mute staring statue, just letting me go.

  I drove, way too fast, my foot throbbing – the pain helping me to focus as the streets and houses, trees and hedges ribboned out on either side, the distance furrowing backwards farther and farther, taking me away.

  I didn’t know where I was heading. Which way was Kent? I’d looked on my phone but now I couldn’t remember. None of the road signs were making any sense, I couldn’t get my bearings… Southgate? No… No. This must be wrong. Where was I going? What should I do? I have nowhere sorted, nothing. Jesus, Jesus… Reaching into my bag to find my phone, I dialled the only person I could think of to call and started jabbering even as she answered.

  ‘Lucy? Is that you?…’ I could hear the alarm. ‘Lucy? … Lucy? Can you hear me? Christ! What’s happened? What’s the matter?’

  I was making sounds, but not words, the sobs drowning everything out.

  ‘Take a breath… Breathe, Lucy, for God’s sake… What the hell’s happened?’

  ‘Paul… It’s… It’s Paul…’

  ‘Oh my God! Is he okay?’

  ‘He… He’s—’

  ‘Oh my God! Has there been an accident? Is he alright?’

  I was picking up speed and realised I’d turned left and was heading onto the North Circular when suddenly the sky opened up with a flash of white.

  ‘No, not him, me… I’m not okay. I’m in the car… He… Please, Em, I have to talk to someone. It’s something awful… He’s… I’ve…’

  ‘What do you mean? What’s happened? What is it?’

  Cars drummed past, tyres whining on the planes of water. The world looked ashy green, boiling with mist and rain. The water illuminated for a second, toiling against the wipers.

  ‘Lucy?’

  ‘I just wanted him to stop…’

  There was a junction. I knew there were lights. I saw them without really seeing. The change from one colour to another didn’t register.

  ‘Lucy?’

  There was a terrible noise, a blaring high-pitched wail, as the road lights throbbed orange and red, streaming out on either side. I watched as a tunnel of brilliant light bore down suddenly in front and the car rocked and slipped. There was a terrifying screaming sound. Somewhere was the sound of Emma’s voice. I think I said her name as a force took over the wheel. The car slewed hard into a kaleidoscope of whirling colours: traffic lights, tail-lights, searing headlights – a sickening sound of screeching metal on concrete convulsed through the car and then suddenly a wall of brick reared up. I was twisting and turning, the belt tearing against my shoulder and then I was grabbed by my hair – out into a cold blank sky. In those seconds there was a moment, an indescribable moment when I was overcome with the numbly falling assumption that I was going to die, and this was how, and this was when – and then out of the whiteness came a blackness.

  And then there was nothing.

  * * *

  I opened my eyes into a bright tableau of blue lights flashing and a road scarred and scatter
ed with things not meant to be there. Kind hands and a blur of faces lifted me from one world into the next, a place of stretchers and strip lights and screens and blankets that smelled strange.

  The world outside was still thundering with rain and police cars: radios, tinny voices and sharp white headlamps, illuminating what was out there in that other place.

  ‘Did I die?’

  ‘Look at me,’ someone said. ‘Concentrate on me.’

  I turned my face to the voice and the lights became brighter, shriller, and there was a stink of something caustic that burned my throat and stung my eyes into crying so that I couldn’t see a thing.

  ‘You’re fine, you’re fine,’ the voice said from far away. ‘It’ll be okay. Don’t cry. The ambulance is here.’ I was aware of the outline of the person looking up and away from me, talking to someone over their shoulder. There was a police radio, flashes of acid yellow.

  ‘Is there any ID?’ someone said. Then: ‘… Lucy? You’re alright, love. Just bear with us… Do you want to go with her?’

  I gazed up into the face hanging over me.

  ‘No.’ I stared up in horror.

  ‘Shush now. It’s okay.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’ I struggled to get up and the world fizzed around me.

  ‘Shush. Lie still,’ the mouth said. And then the world went dark.

  * * *

  What woke me was the lack of noise.

  I was in a room – too bright. There was a terrible pain in the back of my head and I couldn’t feel my right hand. I shifted my head. Emma was smiling across at me. I blinked painfully.

  ‘Hello, you.’ She wrinkled her nose and I saw her eyes were full of tears.

  I stared at her face. All kinds of images floated in front of me, but I didn’t know if any of them were real.

  ‘How long have I—?’ I lifted my hand.

  ‘God!’ she sniffed. ‘You’ve been in and out of consciousness for ages. Christ, Lucy, we’ve been so scared…’ Her eyes glistened and a single tear tracked down her face.