Promises Made- Promises Kept

by Jaclyn Rosamond

  Stony-faced, I sat listening to this litany of lies.

  Face cynical, I shook my head. ‘Not one single word of that is true. Not one decent person would ever believe her. You’ve chosen to believe a pathological liar. She literally has no idea how to tell the truth, even if it bit her in her sneaky little face.’

  Disdainful, he tossed his head.

  ‘Of course, you’d say that.’

  ‘I tell the truth. You know I do. She doesn’t. She’s a practiced liar – proved by her entering an adulterous affair.’ My words fell on deaf ears. ‘Even Lisa, her one and only friend, knows she’s a liar.’

  I was wasting my breath. He’d made up his mind.

  He wagged a finger in my face. ‘You want to know the best thing? Remember that week I went to Brighton for the conference? That’s when we knew we were meant for each other.’

  I processed that for a moment. ‘What, she went with you?’ I asked, bewildered. ‘She’s not an accountant, why was she there?’

  ‘I didn’t tell you the truth,’ he began.

  ‘Oh, tell me something I didn’t know.’ My voice dripped sarcasm. Arms crossed, I prepared to absorb a painful truth. ‘And?’

  ‘The conference only lasted three days, but I stayed the whole week and the weekend. With her. Coming home to you was like coming home to a wet month. Humdrum, fat, you.’

  Hurt lanced through me. ‘Oh,’ I said, voice flat. ‘The visiting American team was another lie?’

  He smirked.

  ‘So, Steady Eddie, has found a mentor to teach him how to lie as easily as she does. You’ll lose all your decent friends. And you don’t care, do you? Liars become pariahs, and you don’t care. Andy ditched you last night. He’s a truly decent man. He won’t come near you, not now you’ve cheated on me.’

  Contemptuous, he said, ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘Not this time. Even Tony’s growing tired of secrets and lies. He pretty much told you that last night.’ I snorted, shaking my head. ‘I worked that weekend, thinking it was a better solution for you to be working, so you wouldn’t resent my hours. Hah.’

  He nodded, face supercilious. ‘We fell in love. We made love, it happened.’

  ‘How does something happen, Eddie?’ I slapped my hand on the coffee table. ‘Please explain to me how you just happened to put your penis in her vagina.’

  ‘Don’t be vulgar.’ His face twisted with scorn.

  ‘Oh, so it’s vulgar to talk about fornicating, is it? Unless it’s on your terms, right? It amounts to the same thing though, you screwed her, not just once, but over and over on your sordid little week in Brighton. And, of course, before that.’

  Supercilious, he straightened his back. ‘We fell in love and we made love. You might find it vulgar, but making love with her is very special.’

  I nearly leapt across the room to hit him again. Except, anger fled. I felt unloved. And dirty. I really would have to be checked for an STD.

  ‘What a crock of shit. Does she know that we still screw each other, or did I just dream that?’

  ‘No, she doesn’t know. I won’t ever fake something I don’t feel again. I don’t love you. I love her. We’ve made love in every room in this house.’ He sneered at my appalled expression. He stood and, nose in the air, walked to the door. ‘I’m packing. We’re over. Bianca’s all I’ll ever want as a wife.’

  ‘So, that’s it? You’re leaving me? No attempt to save our marriage?’

  God, did I need further proof we were doomed? I didn’t want this wretched marriage, and I really didn’t want this sleazy prick.

  ‘Why now? What made you decide to reveal your grubby little secret now?’

  ‘There’s nothing grubby about this.’ His mouth curled to a mocking jeer. ‘I’m leaving you because she’s pregnant and she needs me. Our child needs a father. I couldn’t be happier. We’re meant for each other.’

  I recoiled, blood leeching from my face. His eyes lit up with spite.

  The contents of my stomach rose up. ‘She’s pregnant? Oh my God,’ I shuddered in disgust. ‘I feel like I’ve been slimed. To think you touched me after you touched her. Did you know she’s had Chlamydia from unprotected sex?’

  He looked sick for a moment. ‘That’s in the past.’ All the same, his eyes shifted away from mine.

  ‘She’s had two abortions. Has she told you that?’ I yelled. ‘You despise women who do that. What makes you think this is different?’

  Shocked, he froze for a moment, eyes wide, disbelieving. Then he shook his head. ‘She’s more than three months pregnant, we saw our tiny baby’s heart, our child’s, beating on an ultrasound today.’ He looked pompous and awed. ‘We were celebrating when you so rudely burst in.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m going to be sick.’ I shoved past him and flew to the downstairs bathroom. Heaving, I threw up what little was in my stomach. Afterwards, I perched on the toilet seat, blowing my nose, wiping my mouth, shaking.

  He didn’t follow me. Why would he?

  More of his scorn? No thanks. Or more malicious delight.

  I’d have hit him again and I pack quite a punch. I caught my reflection in the mirror. A white-faced nobody stared back. My hair was a disheveled fright, face puffy and pale, eyes red from weeping. My eyes drifted down and I saw myself clearly for a few seconds. Overweight and wearing sweatpants and a cheap t-shirt. My mind flew to Bianca and I cringed.

  How could I compete with Bianca’s transformed beauty?

  How could I ever compete with something as final as a pregnant Bianca? A deep sob escaped my throat, and suddenly I was sobbing uncontrollably. Wad after wad of toilet paper hit the floor as I wiped my face and blew my nose.

  After a while, my butt numb from sitting on the edge of the loo, I stood. What to do?

  I opened the door and listened. Eddie hadn’t left. Yet. I hesitated for a few moments, before heading upstairs. Two suitcases lay half packed on our bed, drawers half-emptied, coathangers bare.

  A knife sliced through me. He really was leaving. This was final.

  A baby on the way type of final.

  Bianca delighting in my humiliation type of final.

  At least I’d caught her in the act and meted out some form of punishment. She was still the winner, though. My husband loved her, not me.

  ‘You’re not taking my suitcase.’ Petty, I knew. Why would I relinquish any personal possessions? I tipped his clothes on the floor. ‘Come back with boxes for your crap.’

  ‘Now, you’re being childish.’ His contempt rooted me to the spot for a moment.

  How had I lived with him, made love with him and not seen the ugliness that our relationship had become? How could I not know this man was capable of such treachery?

  ‘You think? I’ve a right to express myself any way I want, without consideration for your feelings, you bastard. That suitcase belongs to me and I don’t see any reason why it should shortly belong to you and your little whore.’

  ‘That so-called ‘whore’ will soon be my wife and mother of our child, and I’ll thank you not to call her disgusting names.’ His face shone crimson. ‘And we’ll be living here.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ My eyes hardened. ‘You don’t get it, Eddie, do you? You have no right, none whatsoever, to ever again tell me what to do. Nobody likes to be made a fool of. Not me, and not our families or friends. How many friends do you think you’ll have after this?’

  Indifferent, he shrugged. ‘Rose, marriages break up every day.’ He flipped a dismissive hand. ‘Ours didn’t even last a year, and I can guarantee that in another year everybody we know will have accepted yet another failed marriage and Bianca and I will have been together for almost as long as we have. And, in five years, no-one will even remember that you and I were once married.’

  Icy tentacles trickled down my back. He was right.

  ‘Get out,’ I said, voice ominous. ‘Get out right now!’ I screamed this time. ‘Go and play happy families with your little slapper, but remember this –
your relationship will have been based on lies and deceit and someone else’s unhappiness. It’s a crap way to begin another marriage. You said she wanted a decent man? Hahaha. Yet another mistake on her part. There’s nothing decent or honest about you. If I were your whore, I wouldn’t trust you an inch.’

  With withering scorn, he turned away, zipped his suitcase shut and thumped it on its wheels.

  ‘I’m going, and good riddance to bad rubbish, you vindictive bitch. Take a look at yourself in the mirror, Rose. You’re a mess, you’re nothing, nobody. I fucked you out of obligation, there’s nothing sexy about you. You’re repulsive.’

  Paralyzed, I tried to think of something, anything, to say. Words stuck in my throat as I stared at this stranger in my house.

  ‘Yes, think on that, loser. Now I’m going to the beautiful woman I love, cos you don’t hold a candle to her.’ He stood, inches from my face, spittle hitting my cheeks. ‘Make sure you leave the house sometime tomorrow so I can come back and collect the rest of my stuff.’

  He stomped off without a backward glance. Dimly, I heard the front door slam and his car start up and drive away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Icrumpled to the floor, shaking. How long I sat there I don’t know, but eventually anger pulled me to my feet. One thing was certain – Eddie would never come back inside this house. He could collect all his stuff from the rain-soaked lawn tomorrow.

  First things first. Numb, but lucid, I sat at the computer and found a twenty-four-hour locksmith. Late night hours would entail a hefty fee. I didn’t care. While I waited for Handy Ken, I returned to the bedroom and yanked Eddie’s remaining clothes out of drawers and wardrobes, sorting them into two piles.

  Anything I’d given him, even the jumper I’d spent hours knitting for him, ended up tossed in one pile. Striding to our workroom, I pulled dressmaking scissors out of my sewing box and snipped every item I’d ever bought him into pieces, hacking wildly, sobbing with each cut.

  Bleak, I sat back and surveyed the results of my whirlwind fury. He didn’t have one pair of undies now, nor did he have any socks. He hated clothes shopping. Apart from the splurge in Hawaii, I always bought his clothes, now shredded, leaving only two work shirts –gifts from his parents, three t-shirts and a pair of work pants. Even his prized Michael Buble tour t-shirt was slashed. Fury spent, I collected boxes from the garage and piled the demolished scraps into them, dragging them into the hallway when the doorbell rang.

  The locksmith.

  He took one look at me and nodded. ‘Left you, has he?’

  Nodding, a solitary sob escaped.

  ‘Another woman?’

  I nodded, shamefaced.

  ‘Thought so. You wouldn’t believe how many calls I get late at night from women wanting to lock out their husbands.’

  ‘Just women?’ Surprise immobilized me for a moment. ‘Don’t men have the same issue?’

  He set down his toolbox in the hall. ‘Not half as much, and I have a theory on that.’ He nodded at the front door. ‘Just this one, or the back door as well?’

  ‘Both doors, please. What’s your theory?’ He’d succeeded in distracting me, for the moment.

  ‘Women plan it better, that’s what I think. I’ll bet your hubby was enjoying a bit of both worlds, you and his bit of skirt on the side. And I’ll bet she forced the issue. What did she do, tell him “it’s me or her” – always risky that one, but it works more often than it should.’

  ‘Worse, she’s pregnant and keeping this one.’

  He snorted. ‘Yeah, that’d work. Little bun in the oven and Mr-Can’t-keep-it-in-his-pants suddenly has to shoulder some responsibility and make big decisions. Bet he didn’t see that coming.’

  I nodded. He was right. Eddie had been forced to make a decision he mightn’t have been ready to make. With a start, I recognized one thing – with the threat of a baby on the way all the thrill of the illicit was out in the open. It was hardly a comfort, but a damned sight better than finding out a month from now, or six months, or maybe waking up one morning a year from now to find myself the fool. On balance, this was better.

  Cold comfort.

  Tactful enough not to pry, Ken completed the new locks. When he’d finished and the bill was paid, I gave him a couple of beers from the pantry.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ he said. He handed me a bunch of new keys. ‘All the best and look after yourself. It’ll come right in the end.’

  I couldn’t even raise a ghost of a smile. I shut the front door, locked it and sagged against it, eyes shut. In the unlikely event Eddie returned during the night, he’d be locked out. I drew a deep breath and opened my eyes. The boxes of ruined clothes still sat in the hall.

  ‘Bugger it!’ Frantic to be rid of him, I unlocked the door and dragged them all onto the lawn and left them in the pouring rain.

  I wouldn’t sleep tonight. Anger mingled with fear, hot and panicky. What should I do? A howl started deep inside and travelled fast up to my throat, bursting out in great hitching sobs. I fell to the floor clutching my stomach. I lost all sense of time, crumpled in the hallway, without lucid thoughts to anchor me.

  Eventually, cold and shaking, I picked myself up off the hard floor and staggered through to the living room, collapsing onto a sofa. I curled up, compressing my body into as small a ball as I could and lay there numb in mind and body, my thoughts formless, fleeting images sliding through my head in quick succession, too fast to make sense.

  When I stirred again, I knew I had to act.

  Normally, I’d call Shona. She’d be round in a heartbeat, but she was still half a world away in Australia. I skirted round the idea of calling her. I shook my head. This sort of news in the midst of engagement celebrations was bad timing.

  Forestalling Brigid and Andy’s calls, I texted both of them.

  ‘Eddie has left me. Bianca is pregnant. They’re both in love with themselves (and each other. Maybe). I’ll talk to you both tomorrow. Tonight I need to be alone, just licking my wounds. Tx for your support last night. Rose’

  Next, I considered calling my parents, but flinched at the idea of Mum’s distressed response. She hadn’t cared that much for Eddie, and I had no stomach for a bunch of ‘I told you so’ exclamations from her. That was unfair. She wouldn’t do that. I still couldn’t call her.

  My sister, Louisa, and her perfect life, was out of the question. She’d blame me. Not an iota of sympathy.

  My brother, Dominic, on the other hand. Well, as a divorce lawyer, he’d be very handy.

  As for Dad. He’s always been my advocate. Despite all the despair my mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles.

  There was something Eddie didn’t know. Something my parents and Dominic knew. My ever-unloving husband was going to have a nasty surprise. I clutched that little secret, relishing disappointing him.

  As for Bianca. She may have won. But what a pathetic prize. A man willing to cheat and vilify. What might he do once he tired of her? Or she tired of him? Into the silence, I laughed, a dry, unamused laugh.

  Restless, I jumped off the sofa and paced, searching for clues of infidelity. Eddie was so often home late, claiming he’d been at the gym. He was certainly fitter now than he had been, so he must have been going to the gym. But not for three or four hours every night after work. I’d thought it ridiculous. Now I knew I’d been right.

  He’d look like a bodybuilder if he’d done that. And he wasn’t bulging with overbuilt muscles.

  At least part of the time he’d have been with Bianca. He had to have been lying about staying late at work. I sobbed, remembering his last-minute calls apologizing for working late. No wonder our sex life had been almost non-existent. If he was screwing Bianca, he’d have had no appetite for unattractive me when he got home.

  Sex with me must have been on the days he wasn’t seeing Bianca. No wonder both Eddie and Bianca had been enthusiastic about me going back to shift hours at the hospital – it was much more convenient for copulating in this house while
I was at work.

  I glanced around wondering where they’d had sex in this room. The rug in front of the heater, a rug we’d chosen together. Yep. No doubt about that. I scurried through to the garage, gathered up rolls of electrical tape and hurried back to roll up the rug, shrinking in disgust as I touched it. With quick movements I wrapped tape around it and threw it out on the lawn with the other soaked remnants.

  Upstairs, standing silently in the bedroom doorway, I fell to my knees, replaying the scene I’d walked into earlier in the evening.

  I felt foolish.

  Shuddering in revulsion, I could only assume, on the rare occasions we’d had sex, Eddie would have been thinking about Bianca. Was that the only way he could get an erection?

  That thought was like a vicious slap. If he no longer loved me, how else could he even get an erection unless he was thinking of her? Hurt spread out until even my fingers and toes felt tight and tainted. Did adulterers routinely close their eyes while they “serviced” their wives and fantasized they were making love to their mistresses?

  I stared at the bed in revulsion. The mattress would have to go. I stripped the bed and threw the sheets into a garbage bag. I grabbed at the mattress – God, it was heavy, too heavy, I wanted to drag it onto the lawn and leave it to soak in the rain, but I could barely lift one corner. Discouraged, I kicked it.

  No way I’d ever sleep on it again.

  Downstairs again, I sat gingerly on the sofa. Had they done it here, too?

  Would I ever feel normal again? It didn’t seem possible. In a year’s time would this feel better? Impossible.

  Cold and shivering, I pulled an alpaca throw off the back of the sofa, curled into a ball and lay huddled under it, shivering, until gradually a prickle of warmth stole through me.

  I woke up with a jolt. I’d slept. Not for long. I glanced at the antique clock ticking away the minutes. Maybe half an hour of forgetting. Tentacles of fear and panic unfurled. How could this be happening?

  I needed action. Not this cowering in a corner.

  Awake now, my thoughts coalesced.

  Bianca’s makeover. Her Prada bag. Her driving lessons and car. The Longines watch. That diamond ring.