Husband Replacement Therapy

by Lette, Kathy

  Afterwards, I rested my head on his broad chest and gazed at the low ceiling that had been the sky of our world for the past week, and said, impetuously, ‘If I just seized the day and left my husband, if I threw caution to the wind, would you come with me?’

  ‘Yes’, he said, simply.

  I lent up on one elbow, surprised, delighted and terrified in equal measure. ‘What? Are you sure? I haven’t given you much time to think about it. This is the emotional equivalent of a knee-trembler in an alley after the pub’s shut, I’ve just skipped all the foreplay.’

  ‘One thing treading on that damn mine taught me is to live in the moment. Nobody’s guaranteed a second act.’

  My eyes searched his face. Did this really mean as much to him as it did to me? ‘I feel that – oh, god, it sounds so corny. Cliché alert! But I feel nobody ever really knew me before I met you.’

  Brody put his hands around my waist, pulling me so close I could feel the pulse of blood in him and the warmth of his breath. ‘I feel that way too. But what about your husband?’

  I shrugged. ‘Harry was the only nice guy in my school. He gave me a Nick Cave album, Kicking Against the Pricks, and on school disco night he fingered me behind the smoke machine. Needless to say, a few years later we got married and had two children. And I thought we were happy. But clearly I was lying to myself. I should have listened to the little voice inside me saying “Is this all there is?” Obviously, I’ve been a bit depressed since my babies were born.’

  ‘Really? Crikey. How old are they?’

  ‘Eighteen and twenty-one.’

  Brody laughed, but then added, seriously, ‘Good point, though. What about your kids?’

  ‘Zoe’s just finished school and is taking a gap year. She’s fruit-picking near Byron Bay now and going travelling in Asia in the new year. And Jake’s trying to find a place to move out with mates from his apprenticeship course.’

  ‘If captains can perform weddings at sea, I don’t see any reason they can’t perform divorces as well,’ Brody suggested.

  ‘That’s a bit drastic,’ I said, laughing. ‘I’ve only known you for three weeks. I’m not sure I’m ready for the full husband-ectomy.’

  ‘Fair enough. But I do think we need to find out what this is, between us,’ Brody said solemnly. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘But what about your contract with the cruise company?’

  ‘I’ll just break it and jump ship. I’ll say I got a twenty-four-hour virus – a twenty-four-hour virus that will last for at least the rest of the summer.’

  ‘No severance pay?’

  ‘Nope. But it’s worth it, Ruby. Much to my amazement, for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to Christmas. Because look what Santa gave me for a present,’ he said, laying me back on the bed and kissing his way down my body. ‘I love the salty taste of your beautiful quim,’ he said.

  Finally, a doctor who didn’t believe in giving up salt! This was my kind of medic. Once more, the sounds I was capable of making seemed insufficient to express what I was feeling. I wished I were a rooster so I could crow. No one had invented the noun (or is it a verb?) that I needed right now. All I could do was beam, ecstatically, and perhaps execute a handstand on the end of the bed.

  The truth is, Brody and I just couldn’t resist each other. We had about as much control as a white-water raft in a category five hurricane.

  Brody lifted my calves onto his bare back, his mouth never leaving my body. And then later we nodded off, my heartbeat chiming in time with his breathing. Deeper and deeper we both sank, together.

  22

  ‘A toast!’ Emerald declared, raising her champagne glass. ‘Let’s drink to our livers!’

  ‘And the transplants!’ I added.

  We were lounging in the jacuzzi on the top deck, marvelling at the southern sky in all its glittering glory, as the warm, tropical night purred around us.

  ‘And thank you, Ruby, for making us come along.’ Amber tapped her plastic glass against mine. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how much this trip has meant to me. Put it this way: I’ve had so much fun laughing, teasing and chatting with my beloved sisters that I’ve gone from Skyping home every five minutes to thinking, “Do I even have children?”’

  ‘Me too!’ Emerald said. ‘My kids insist on having their “safe spaces”, but then I get yelled at if I get their non-binary pals mixed up with the sexually fluid flexitarians.’

  ‘Where is our safe space? That’s what I want to know.’ I laughed along with them.

  ‘On this bloody boat, actually,’ Emerald said. ‘Oh, I just don’t ever want to get off.’

  ‘Me either,’ Amber added. ‘We’ve both paid you back, by the way. The money’s transferred into your account. I would have paid double for this time together.’

  ‘Triple,’ Emerald agreed.

  My eyes widened. My sisters agreeing, again! Would miracles never cease? ‘Thank you, girls, but there was no need. It’s been worth every penny. I too am now a cruise addict. I will need to go to meetings.’

  ‘It’s changed me, this trip. I’m not taking that crap from the kids when I get home,’ Amber vowed. ‘Not from Scott either, the lazy, hypocritical dipshit.’

  ‘Good for you!’ Emerald enthused. ‘Surely, the simple rule should be that if a woman is earning the bacon, her husband should cook it.’

  ‘And, if a wife is wearing the proverbial pants, he should launder them for her on a regular basis, too,’ I suggested.

  ‘What every busy working mum wants is an iron man. Not a bloke in lycra on a racing bike, but a man holding the starch bottle and a basket of laundry.’

  ‘Well said, Ruby! And if Scott and the kids don’t do more to help around the house, well, I’ll be doing what Ruby said, and looking for a loophole in my marriage certificate.’

  ‘What a fantastic idea! I’m shaking things up as well,’ Emerald pledged. ‘This trip has given me back my self-esteem. And not just physically. Although, sexually, I’ve been like a squirrel, storing up nuts – I’ve had enough orgasms to get me through the winter.’

  ‘So we’ve heard,’ Amber said, flaring her eyes but smiling at her sister with affection.

  ‘I want my sex life back with Alessandro. It’s not an unreasonable demand. But he has to work at it too. And, I mean, what’s not to love? Look at these two babies.’ She pointed at her breasts, released from their bikini top and bobbing in the jacuzzi bubbles like two pale puddings fizzing in froth. ‘Otherwise, I’ll also be looking for a loophole in my marriage certificate.’

  On cue, one of the toy boys Emerald was avoiding strolled past, flanked by two muscled mates. Emerald’s conquest was an inhabitant of the man-bun brigade – one of those guys who smokes a great deal of dope and believes that crystals are more medically sound than vaccinations.

  ‘Sit on my face, babe,’ Man Bun said, bragging for the benefit of his brawnier pals, whom he now fist-bumped in turn.

  ‘Why? Is your nose bigger than your cock?’ my older sister shot back. ‘Can’t you see we’re on a girls’ night?’

  I caught Amber’s eye. Our laughter exploded and crackled like popcorn. I didn’t know why I’d ever worried about Emerald and the ‘whaling game’. She knew exactly how to handle beasts of all kinds.

  ‘So, what was wrong with Man Bun?’ I asked, when he’d stomped off after his unimpressed mates.

  ‘He kept asking if I was an Aries or a Taurus. In the end I told him that my sign was “Do not disturb”.’

  That set us off again. When our laughter had abated, Amber said, ‘And what about you, Rubes?’ She topped up our champagne from the bottle, which had been leaning at a rakish angle in a bucket by the hot tub. ‘What’s been the best thing about the trip for you?’

  ‘That’s easy. My sisters getting along with each other. And being out of range of our evil mother.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, bad news,’ Amber sighed.

  ‘Boris Johnson and Playgirl have agreed to centrefold terms?’ I su
ggested.

  ‘Worse. Mum’s learnt to use WhatsApp. I have about ten messages on my phone berating me for abandoning her.’

  ‘Really? She’s attacking me on Messenger. I’ve been getting daily bulletins from Planet Grim since we left Sydney,’ Emerald said.

  ‘Well, let’s just ignore her until we get back. United we stand, divided we’re screwed,’ I said.

  ‘I dunno why we even bother being nice to her.’ Amber sighed, then swigged down another big gulp of champagne. ‘She’s probably just going to leave her whole estate in trust to a cat retirement home or her hairdresser or something.’

  ‘We’re already out of the will, didn’t I tell you?’ Emerald reported. ‘God, I meant to, but in all the rush and fuss . . .’

  ‘What?’ Amber’s head spun to look at her.

  ‘Well, you know about Mum’s volcanic temper . . .’

  ‘What did Dad call her?’ I asked. ‘Oh, I remember: Lady McDeath.’

  ‘Yes. Well, in short, Lady McDeath told me that if we abandoned her to come on this cruise, she’d leave all her money to the Catholic Church.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Amber swore – something she did now.

  ‘Hey, it was always on the cards. She never forgave you for marrying a Protestant, Amber. Nor me an atheist, which is even worse. That’s another reason why she’s always liked you the best, Ruby. Because you married a good Catholic boy.’

  ‘Not so good, it turns out,’ I said, sourly.

  Amber patted my hand consolingly.

  ‘Although, it’s true,’ I acknowledged. ‘Mum thinks Protestants make the baby-sacrificing Aztecs and missionary-nibbling cannibals of Africa look civilised.’

  ‘But the real reason she’s leaving her money to the church is so that prayers will be said to get her out of purgatory,’ Emerald clarified.

  ‘Gosh, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Amber bemoaned. ‘A rich sinner can get a fast-track VIP pass through purgatory by donating to the Pope’s Prada shoe fund. But paupers, not so much.’

  ‘I doubt that any number of prayers could get our mother out of purgatory, anyway,’ Emerald jibed. ‘The truth is, Mum’s an evil, hypercritical, she-bitch from hell . . . But, of course, I wish her only the best.’

  ‘Well, I’m not saying prayers for her. Not after being cut of the will, after all I’ve done for her,’ Amber grumbled.

  ‘All you’ve done? Surely you mean all I’ve done. Mum’s always complaining to me that you do nothing for her, Amber.’

  ‘What? I do everything. She’s always saying you don’t do anything for her, Emerald, and that she can’t believe how selfish you are.’

  One minute of conversation about our mother and our sib-ship was drifting into troubled and treacherous waters. My emotional shipping report was issuing a red light warning – icebergs ahead. I immediately went into policewoman mode, stopping the verbal traffic with my hand. ‘We all do far too much for her. Mommie Dearest is the closest thing we have to a home video.’

  ‘Hopefully she’ll be senile soon and won’t be able to play us all off against each other anymore. “If only you had your sister’s figure . . .”’ Amber mimicked. ‘“Oh, your sister doesn’t do it like that.”’

  ‘“You mowed the grass too short. Your sister knows better . . .” blah blah blah,’ I added.

  ‘Senile? Jesus.’ Emerald interjected, in an alarmed voice. ‘What are we going to do with her when she eventually goes gaga?’

  ‘You have the most practical house, Emerald – mostly on one level. Surely you should take her in?’

  ‘Oh, yes. That would be second on my list of fun things to do – right after a clitoridectomy,’ Emerald snapped. ‘Bugger that. You should take her in, Amber. You have the biggest house.’

  ‘That would be second on my list of fun things to do, too – right after having a bubble bath with Hitler,’ Amber said, scowling.

  ‘Well, I’m not looking after her either – not without combat pay,’ I added. ‘Let’s face it, within a week we’d all be in an institution, sobbing and braiding our hair.’

  ‘There’s clearly only one solution,’ Emerald stated baldly. ‘We’re just going to have to smother mother.’

  This comment was so unexpected that Amber and I guffawed hysterically at Emerald’s audacity.

  ‘I’m serious. Pets are better off than people, d’you know that? They can be humanely put down when the time comes.’

  ‘Maybe we could take her to a vet – she is such a cow at times,’ I joked, thrumming my fingertips thoughtfully on my chin. ‘Ah, if only we knew a vet . . .’

  ‘Ruby’s right. Surely you’ve got enough sedative to put a rhino to sleep,’ Amber asked Emerald. ‘Those opiates are thousands of times more potent than morphine, right?’

  ‘Well, yeah, we could drug her with a ram sedative,’ Emerald riffed. ‘But we’d have to put a plastic bag over her head and probably gas her with helium to make it seem as though she’d killed herself. But why should I bloody well do the dirty deed? Amber, you know all about poisonous plants, don’t you?’

  ‘Sure. Oleander tea. Or there’s the flowering aconitum plant. Farmers use it to kill foxes. It’s known by lots of other names – monkshood, wolf’s bane, devil’s helmet, blue rocket. Have you heard of it? Even contact with unbroken skin can kill.’

  ‘Let’s do that, then. And if we get caught, I’m sure we can get the jail sentence commuted to a few psychiatric sessions after we tell the story of our lifetime of psychological abuse,’ a slightly inebriated Emerald reasoned.

  ‘Yes, we’d be out of prison in three or four years and then there’d be a bidding war among the TV networks for our exclusive interview,’ I conjectured, lightheartedly.

  ‘Ruby, you could give it to her. I mean, if you get caught, it’s not as though they can give you a life sentence, right?’ Emerald concluded, matter-of-factly.

  ‘Emerald!’ Amber sobered suddenly. ‘You know that we don’t talk about . . .’ She chose her words carefully, eyebrows emphatically raised, ‘Kev.’

  I jolted awake. Kev? I thought, startled. Who’s Kev? I had a vague recollection that it was someone I should be worried about. Then it hit me like a falling grand piano. I’d completely forgotten about my fake cancer. Now would be the time to confess all and set my siblings straight. This very second. Now. NOW!

  ‘I . . . I . . . I . . .’ If ever I’m a contestant on Mastermind, prevarication will be my specialist subject. It wasn’t that I was still waiting for a spine donor. No, it was really just that I had something more important to admit and didn’t want to get sidetracked. One bombshell at a time, I rationalised through a fog of champagne.

  ‘Oh, Ruby, I know you don’t want to talk about that thing we’re not talking about,’ Amber said, softly, ‘but I just want you to know how much I love you. And that you’re our priority. Isn’t she, Emerald?’

  ‘Bloody oath. When we get home, whatever you need, Ruby, your sisters will be there for you.’

  ‘Um, that is so, so lovely, girls. I can’t tell you how touched I am. Only . . .’ I took a deep breath and then stepped out into the emotional minefield. ‘I’m not going home.’

  I might as well have thrown a firecracker onto the home stretch of the Melbourne Cup. Both my sisters spun their heads in unison to look at me.

  ‘What?’ asked Emerald.

  ‘What?’ echoed Amber.

  ‘I’ve fallen in love.’

  ‘What?’ Emerald said again.

  ‘What?’ echoed Amber.

  My sisters now cocked their heads to the side. It brought back memories of the backyard synchronised swim team we’d pretended to be part of as kids, and in the lagoon the other day – only I was clearly out of sync. Shock had rendered the loquacious Ryan girls momentarily monosyllabic. For a few seconds, we broiled away in our bubbly, chlorinated cauldron in complete silence, till Emerald blurted, ‘Who with?’

  ‘With whom?’ amended Amber, on autopilot.

  ‘The ship’s doctor,’ I confess
ed, my face vivid with excitement. ‘Which is why I couldn’t tell you until now, as it’s somewhat illegal because I have been his patient on the cruise. I’m sorry about that. But all the advice you both gave me at the start of the cruise about the menopause – try this herb, pop this pill – I discovered what I really needed is some simple HRT – that is, husband replacement therapy.’

  23

  ‘The doctor? The one who pushed the entertainment officer into the pool?’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t he all silver-foxy and fabulous?’

  There was no answer except for the bubble and whirr of the jacuzzi.

  ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you until now, but it’s a breach of the doctor–patient whatnot, so he made me promise I wouldn’t say anything. But I just had to let you know that I won’t be going home with you tomorrow.’

  ‘The ship’s doctor? Yes, that’s definitely a prima facie case of professional misconduct,’ Emerald said, sounding serious.

  ‘Sit on my prima facie,’ I giggled. Since when did I get so giggly? ‘Oh, girls, when he touches me, I feel as though a cyclone has spun me up into the stratosphere and landed me softly on cloud ten,’ I added, in a rush. ‘I’ve fallen in love. Just like in the movies. God, he’s so good in bed our headboard needs an airbag! I’m not kidding. I’ve kissed him so much I can’t believe my lips aren’t in a splint. It’s thrilling, frantic, romantic, dirty, dangerous, all-consuming, mind-blowing, tender, surprising, emotional, freaky – and then, sometimes, just fun. He says my red hair is as bright as daylight. Oh, and he’s so funny. Seriously. Thank god he’s a doctor, as I may haemorrhage from humour.’

  My sisters, however, didn’t seem to be finding my revelation remotely amusing.

  ‘When? When exactly did this happen? You’ve been with us most of the time,’ Amber asked, bewildered.

  ‘Well, remember when I got that sheet burn on the nose and pulled my groin and my fanny was on fire and you booked me an appointment with the doctor? Well, I thought he was the most arrogant ratbag I’d ever met. But then I sunburnt my bum and had to go back. It was hate at second sight, too. Then there was the abseiling accident, and jellyfish sting, and it was hate at third and fourth sight – or slight, actually, because we couldn’t stop bickering. But, well, turns out it was actually your whole basic Beatrice and Benedick Much Ado About Nothing scenario, because in Mare I got stranded with him on a broken windsurfer and, as he thought we might drown at sea, he let down his defences. And it turns out we laugh at the same jokes, we watch the same box sets, we love the same books . . . I never thought anything would happen between us. But it did. It has. And I’ve never felt more in love or more alive!’