Chapter Twenty-Nine
She was waiting at the door when Michael arrived home, her arms crossed over her chest and her fury ramping up. She’d driven around for hours after leaving the medical center, only stopping for long enough to collect her prescription for antibiotics from the pharmacy. She’d ended up close to the airport at one stage and had even briefly considered abandoning her car and getting on a plane to go anywhere but here, but instead she’d kept driving. Her phone had rung several times, calls from clients and Sasha, but she hadn’t picked up. She was awash in an ocean of conflicting feelings; sometimes desperately sad and other times so angry that she could barely keep her hands steady on the wheel. The UTI symptoms had quickly abated in response to the medication but she’d scarcely noticed. She had herpes, she was infected for life with a virus that her supposedly faithful life partner had inflicted on her. What was she supposed to do with that information?
Michael unlocked the door and stared at her in surprise. “Becky? Were you waiting for me?”
“Who is she?” All of her carefully planned comments went straight out the window as soon as she set eyes on his vile cheater’s face.
“What are you talking about?” He brushed past her on his way through to the kitchen. “I’m not here for dinner. I’m just here to shower and change. I have a meeting at eight. It shouldn’t be a late one but you can’t always tell.”
She balled her hands into fists and strode after him. “Is the meeting with your whore?”
He frowned at her as he laid his briefcase on the counter and opened it. “What are you talking about? I’m too busy to deal with yet another one of your meltdowns. I have to be on my way back out the door in 15 minutes.”
Why had she ever allowed herself to think she knew this man? She pulled the tube of cream the doctor had prescribed out of her jeans pocket and dropped it down on the counter. “Here, you might need some of this. I’m sure there’s plenty to go around.”
He scarcely glanced at it. “What’s that?”
“STD cream. For the treatment of genital herpes, to be exact.”
Finally, she had a reaction from him. She watched as the blood drained from his face and his mouth opened and shut like a goldfish out of water. “You have herpes? Where did you catch that?”
“From you.” He was still doing that thing with his mouth and she couldn’t shift the goldfish vision. She now had the ghostly image in the back of her mind of a movie she’d once watched. In the movie, a fisherman caught a large, grotesque fish that the locals were convinced had scared away the trout they loved to catch in a nearby stream. She’d sat and watched the fish flop about helplessly and she’d felt a strange mix of emotions. Part of her was glad that the rogue fish had finally been caught, while the other part of her was sad for the creature. Stop feeling sorry for him, Becky. He brought this on himself.
“Impossible.” He was blustering now, his body half-turned away from her as he snapped his briefcase shut again. “I don’t have any diseases.”
“Dr. Saunders confirmed that I didn’t catch it from a toilet seat. You disgust me.” The bile had risen up in her throat and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to spit on him or jump on his back like a wildcat and scratch at his face. He couldn’t even be man enough to admit what he’d done.
“I don’t have herpes,” he said stubbornly.
“I guess that means Dr. Saunders was wrong. She’s probably made thousands of incorrect diagnoses over the years. We both know how incompetent she is.” She felt cynical and very, very old.
He looked at her uncertainly. “When did you see her?”
“This morning. She told me it takes two to fourteen days for the virus symptoms to appear. Looks like you gave me an unexpected little gift when you fucked me the other night. That was very generous of you, Michael. It sure beats flowers.”
He swallowed hard and she watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I didn’t know I had it,” he muttered.
Lucifer ran into the kitchen and began to wind himself around Becky’s legs. She shut her eyes for a few seconds, attempting to sort out where to go next with this. What had she expected? Had she expected him to confess everything and beg her forgiveness? She heard him open the refrigerator door and take out a bottle of wine. She blinked her eyes open. “Are you serious? You’re going to pour yourself a drink in the middle of all this?” Her voice was louder than ever now. She felt just as she’d felt in the doctor’s room, as if she was an observer watching this little tableau from some place far away.
Lucifer hissed and ran from the room, clearly unimpressed by Becky’s angry, shouting voice. She watched the cat go, wishing she could run away from all of this too. Just run away and pretend it had never happened.
Michael left the wine bottle untouched on the counter and re-opened his briefcase. “I can’t do this now. I have a meeting to go to.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re still going to go to your stupid meeting?”
He set his mouth into a straight line and didn’t look up as he rifled through his papers. “It’s important.”
“And the collapse of our relationship isn’t?” Her voice was rising again and she struggled to keep control of it.
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.” He glared at her, as if she’d caused this problem herself. “It just happened.”
“Is this why you’ve been staying at the hotel? Were you there with her?” She felt sick all over again. When she’d needed him the most he wasn’t with her. Instead, he was with his whore. “Who is she? And how long has it been going on?”
“It hasn’t been going on for as long as you think. You’ve been different lately, Becky. You’re always busy at work.”
“Don’t you dare put this on me! You’ve been just as busy as I have, although at least I tried to make time for you. A normal couple would’ve supported each other.” Normal. What was normal? Had anything in her life ever been normal? 3, 2, 1.
“Calm down, Becky. You’re screeching like a common fishwife. It’s a wonder you haven’t set the neighbors’ dog off barking.” He looked at her with obvious distaste and once again, she wondered who this man was.
“You’ve been cheating on me with another woman. A woman with a STD. How could you do this to me?” She was furious that he wasn’t trying to defend himself. “Are you going to just stand there and make sarcastic comments? Don’t you have anything more to say for yourself?” It all suddenly felt so hopeless.
“It only happened a couple of times,” he said sullenly.
“Oh, and that’s supposed to make it all right?”
He was pouting like a naughty schoolboy now but there was nothing redeeming or beguiling about his expression. “At least I didn’t pay for sex like some of the guys in the office do. It’s not as if I’ve been seeing prostitutes. There were plenty of opportunities to do so.”
“You may as well have gone and done it. That bitch gave you a STD, which you in turn gave to me. Sharing is caring.” Her snort was so violent that it sent a spray of spittle across the room. Why did she need to keep repeating herself? Michael should be explaining his actions to her instead of putting her in this position. “You have zero moral integrity so don’t go trying to make yourself sound better than your sleazy colleagues. Men who pay for sex are psychologically no different from any other of the male species. It’s a proven scientific fact.” She could feel her lip curling and she didn’t try to hide the sneer in her voice. “You’re all disgusting. Every last one of you. You’re no better than Tony Everett. We’re done, Michael Eric Burton! I can’t even bear to look at you. You’re a pig. No, you’re worse than a pig. You’re a pig’s penis. Get out. And you can go and get your own cream.” She snatched up the tube of cream, whirled around, and stomped away from him, appalled at herself for dredging up such a childish insult. Really, Becky? Couldn’t you have come up with something better than a pig’s penis?
“I’ll stay in the pool house tonight,” he said quietly from behind her as s
he stormed out of the room. “I’ll pack my things in the morning and leave tomorrow while you’re at work.”
Chapter Thirty
She went to bed after tearing off the sheets and replacing them with a clean set, unable to rid herself of the thought that he might’ve brought his whore home. She tossed and turned for hours, until she couldn’t bear staying in bed for a minute longer. She paced around the house for the remainder of the night, much to Lucifer’s baleful curiosity. She’d heard Michael’s car pull into the driveway just before 10pm but he didn’t come inside the house. She wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not. She’d peeked out through the blinds in the study, watching as he moved around in the pool house before the lights went out. She’d half expected him to stay in the city overnight but it seemed he’d told the truth for once when he said he’d be back.
She wondered about the woman, too. Who was it? Was it the young girl in the low cut top from the bar? Michael hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. Had he gone back when he was alone and asked her out? Invited her into his bed? She’d clearly been willing to accept his invitation. Perhaps she said yes to all the men, perhaps that was how she’d caught herpes herself. Could the man who accosted Michael in the street have been the woman’s disgruntled boyfriend? No wonder Michael had been so quick to dismiss him as just some crazy with a grudge against the council. Becky paced again, agitated and unable to settle herself down. 3, 2, 1.
She cried for a long time, weeping hot, painful tears as she walked through the empty rooms. She cried for herself, she cried for her lost dreams, and she cried for herself again. What was wrong with her? Tony had been possessive and controlling and Michael was a no-good sleaze. Was there something inherently broken about her that made men think they could treat her so badly? She angrily brushed away her tears. She would not feel sorry for herself. She’d made a few mistakes in regard to the men she’d chosen but she’d get through this and she’d emerge stronger for it. She was still young and she had loving, supportive people around her. The end of this relationship did not have to mean the end of everything. She would go to work in the morning and when she came home all traces of Michael would be gone, as if he’d never been a part of her life.
She left the house early the next morning, resisting the temptation to gouge her key along the side of Michael’s car. No, she would not be childish. There was no need for her to lower herself down to his despicable level. She gazed at herself resolutely in the rear vision mirror as she started the car. She could do this. She could get herself through this and move on. Other people did it every day.
Sasha arrived at the office before Alice and Becky was glad. It meant she had the chance to talk to her friend in private without Alice listening in. Alice had never tried to hide the fact that she openly listened to their conversations, which irked Becky immensely. It was probably nearing time for her to call the agency and tell them that Alice’s services were no longer required.
Sasha was aghast when she told her the devastating news of Michael’s affair. She wrapped her arms around Becky and Becky cried again, although she’d told herself before she walked into the office that her crying was done. Sasha said all the right things, saying Michael was a loser and a scumbag, as Becky dried her tears and nodded. Sasha suggested that she take a few days off but Becky refused. She knew it would be best for her to have tasks to focus on and to be out there mixing with people. Too much time on her own was not what she needed.
Becky pushed the tissue box to the side of her desk. She was surprised to see the typing she’d asked Alice to do for her was still sitting on her desk, not even touched. She battled against a surge of anger. “Was it busy in here yesterday while I was away? I feel as if I’ve been gone for days.” It did feel like that. She felt as if she was floating now, uncertain of where to begin with the stack of work on the desk in front of her. The enormity of yesterday had taken precedence in her mind, wiping out all thought of her normal daily routine.
“No, it wasn’t busy at all. We actually had a few hours to catch our breath after how hectic it’s been lately. It was great.”
“Alice hasn’t done the work I left for her. I’m going to tell her that we don’t need her anymore. I’ve never been able to get over her weirdness and I don’t like the way she listens in when we’re having private discussions. If she can’t even complete the few simple tasks I set for her there’s little point in having her here.” Her voice sounded brittle. She was brittle. She felt as fragile as a newborn baby.
Sasha seemed annoyed by her remark about Alice. She gestured around at the open plan office. “It’s a little difficult to have private discussions in here, Becks. You’re not axing Alice just because you want to lash out at someone because of what happened with Michael, are you?”
“Of course not!” She opened her laptop, frustrated that Sasha had seen her comment that way. “Alice’s role here in the office was never intended to be permanent. She can stay until the end of the week and then she can go.”
“We’re still busy. We need someone to help out.”
“That’s fine. It just won’t be Alice.” She pursed her lips, silently daring Sasha to disagree. And no, she didn’t think she was lashing out. Alice’s departure had been on the cards for some time now and the girl was beginning to get a bit too mouthy and overconfident for Becky’s liking. She’d need to have a good excuse for not doing the typing, too.
“Do whatever you want to do. I’m not arguing with you when you’re in this frame of mind.” Sasha picked up her briefcase and checked her mobile phone. “I’m meeting Jerome at the Arlington Heights property. We’re having a Skype discussion with a potential buyer in Hong Kong at 9.30.”
“Good luck.” She hadn’t told Sasha about her STD infection and she didn’t plan too. It somehow felt shameful, although she knew she didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Besides, despite Sasha’s sympathetic response to the news of Michael’s affair she seemed to be holding something back. Or was it Becky? Was she so mixed up in herself that she was no longer properly able to read the responses of other people?
Sasha stopped at the door. “I am sorry about you and Michael. Break ups are never fun.”
“I know. How are you and Chad getting along?” Perhaps this was it. She had to remember that Sasha’s personal life was also rocky at present. Hearing about an affair when you were dealing with marital problems of your own would no doubt raise its fair share of demons in a troubled mind.
“We’re getting there. Chin up, Becky.” Sasha blew her a kiss. “I’ll be tied up until 11.00 but you can call me after that if you need to talk.”
“I will. And thank you.” She went back to her work, feeling happier now about the state of her relationship with her best friend. She’d just imagined Sasha’s prior coolness. She needed to sort herself out, stop overthinking every little thing, and just keep herself focused on moving forward. 3, 2, 1.
Alice gave very little response to the news that her contract would end in a few days’ time. She had no excuse for not completing the typing, either. She merely nodded, picked up the paperwork, and carried it back to her desk. Becky gritted her teeth and said nothing more, telling herself she only needed to put up with her until the end of the week.
Sasha didn’t come back to the office. A courier delivered flowers late morning, a glorious bouquet of riotously colored blooms that should’ve been left unpicked. Becky read Sasha’s lovingly worded card and then she carried the bouquet over to place it on the small magazine table by the door. It was a considerate thought but Sasha should’ve remembered that Becky did not like cut flowers. Was the entire world conspiring to knock her off balance?
Michael didn’t call or text, although a small part of her hoped that he would.
Becky closed up the office just after five, not long after Alice mumbled an unfriendly goodbye and left. She was unsure of what she’d find waiting for her back at the house but true to his word, Michael had cleared out his stuff while she was at w
ork. His side of the closet was empty and an empty bookcase was all that remained in the study. Feeling numb, she walked out to check the pool house. He’d made the bed and he’d left a note for her on the counter to say the lock on the pool house door was loose. He suggested she call a locksmith to fix it. She shook her head as she read his words. It seemed bizarre that he was apparently so concerned for her safety after all that he’d done. She sat on the bed for a few minutes and cried again, and then she roused herself and went back to the empty house. This was her life now and the sooner she got used to it, the better.
Chapter Thirty-One
She phoned her parents to tell them, walking in endless circles as she spoke to her mother to say she was now single again. She could hear the frown in her mother’s voice, the disbelief, as she asked the same questions over and over again. In the end, Becky asked to speak to her father. She cried as soon as she heard his voice and then she allowed herself to sink into his kindness as he said everything that she needed him to say.
She fed Lucifer after the call ended, not caring when he spilled his water bowl, and then she paced around the house again. Could she stay here after what had happened? When they’d first bought the house she had so many happily optimistic hopes for her future with Michael. Had he ever brought that woman back to the house? She felt chilled all over again whenever she thought of it. Perhaps she should sell it. The market was good. She pushed the notion firmly out of her mind. This was no time for making major decisions. One day at a time, Becky. One day at a time. 3, 2, 1.
Michael still hadn’t tried to contact her. She stood for a long time under the shower, rinsing away her tension as best she could, and then made herself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. She turned the TV on but she didn’t even glance at it. Instead, she sat with Lucifer on her knee and stared at nothing. She took herself up to bed at 10.30, praying for sleep. If she didn’t sleep well tonight she would pay another visit to Dr. Saunders and ask for some sleeping tablets. She couldn’t continue to function without sleep.
The Life Thief Page 14
