Guilt

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “But Sam… you said last night…”

  “Forget what I said,” he snaps, angry with himself. “I need to know when I’ll see you again.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to think straight. I can’t look into his eyes when he’s reflecting this much pain, so I roll over and he rolls with me, spooning up behind me, his lips immediately on my shoulder, his arms surrounding my upper body.

  “I’ll have to tell Het,” I murmur.

  “What?”

  “So that I can get away to be with you. She’ll cover for me.”

  “Are you sure? Are you sure she won’t hate you?”

  “No, she’d do anything for me, plus she’s never liked Gage. She wanted me to leave him when we went through that rough patch. She may not like my methods, granted… but once I explain… she’ll help me. When Gage goes away with his mates again, which he often does, I can tell him I stayed over with Het or something and she will cover for me.”

  “I don’t want you to have to lie,” he says, and there’s that unnerving quiver in his voice again. More than anything, I don’t want to hurt him. “I want us to start making plans to get you away from him, I want you to live with me and leave him altogether.”

  “You’re confused, Sam. We’ve only spent the one night together. You’re just riding the high of it all right now. Once we crash back down to earth, you know it will all seem so different.”

  He puts his hand on my cheek to turn my head back towards him. There’s a certainty in his eyes when he stares at me, willing me to see things from his point of view.

  “I’m not going to try and convince you that I’ll be a good father, or any sort of father for that matter, nor would I ever try to replace him as their father, but I believe that the job of any man is to love his wife because she can then love their children to the best of her ability in return. I know that with my love, you can become all the things you want to be, but with him, you’re going to continue being suffocated, I know it.” I nod in agreement, trying not to cry. “He doesn’t deserve you, Liza. Perhaps I don’t deserve you either, but I would never ever take you for granted and I know that you love me, don’t you? You do?”

  “Of course, I love you.” I roll towards him and kiss his mouth, a chaste little peck.

  “Then maybe that has to be the difference, Liz. Maybe you do have to decide which of us you want more, because I’ve lain here this morning and decided I can’t allow you to cheat and lie, it’s not the life I want for you. It’s not what I want at all.”

  I bury my nose in his neck and hold him tight.

  “You’re upset and torn, and I feel exactly the same way, Sam. I honestly do. However, I have my children to think of first. He’s not the best father, but he’s not the worst either. I want to see you again, of course I do… even when it’s just coffee, seeing you makes my day. It’s everything to me.”

  “Me too, me too, baby.” He holds me tight and kisses my forehead repeatedly.

  “I have to go home and I’m going to take some time to think about things, but at the very least, I’ll meet you for coffee again next Saturday after work and we’ll talk more.”

  “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “God, me too.”

  He rolls on top of me and slides straight into me, the heat of our bed instant and unequivocal. I hold his face and spread my legs wide for him as he kisses me deeply.

  I never want to wake up from this, but unfortunately, I know that we must.

  ***

  ON MONDAY MORNING after dropping off Emily at school, I take Rupert with me and meet Hetty at Pearson Park, near where she lives. There’s a little café and we order coffees before finding a table outside to sit at, our pushchairs lined up together. Baby Elizabeth is sleeping, as is my toddler, Rupert. When I picked him up from my mum’s yesterday, I wasn’t sure who was more tired – my mum or him! I decided him.

  We receive our coffees at the table and Hetty shoves a note in the man’s hand before I can pay. “Keep the change,” she tells him.

  She’s knackered, I can tell, and when she puts that cup to her lips, she groans with so much joy, it makes me laugh. We normally meet for coffee on Monday mornings, our way of offsetting the most dreaded day of the week. She texted me this morning asking if we could skip it this week, but I persuaded her I needed to talk.

  “So, what’s on your mind, hmm?” she asks.

  I take a long sip of my coffee, too. “I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t react. You’ve got to behave yourself. I know it’s going to be difficult, but I want you to listen.”

  She gives me a funny look, then starts reeling off, “Look, if it’s about me ringing you about baby stuff all the time and me going on about my tits, I’m sorry but—”

  “It’s not about you, it’s about me.”

  “Oh.”

  That shut her up. She looks intrigued for once.

  “Perhaps we’d better drink these first and then take a walk around the park. Anyone might hear.”

  “Okay.”

  She starts drinking as fast as she can, comically gurning when she almost burns herself.

  “For goodness sake, Het.”

  “I’ve waited a lifetime for us to talk about you, so shut it while I down this motherfucker.”

  I roll my eyes at her.

  Once we have caffeine in our veins, we push off with the prams and start walking slowly around the duck pond, taking our time.

  “I’ve done something,” I whisper, afraid someone might overhear. I don’t know who, but I’m afraid anyway.

  “What have you done? Maxed out your credit card? Hidden that odd sock behind the cupboard so that nobody ever knows about it?”

  “I’ve cheated on Gage, okay?” Anything to shut her up. She’s like this even when she’s not had E numbers. I don’t know where her energy ends. I don’t think it ever does!

  She goes quiet and for a few moments, I’m scared to turn and look at her, in case she’s having a bad reaction.

  When I feel brave enough, I glance at her and she’s just staring at the ground, her lips pursed.

  “Say something then.”

  “Can’t. You told me not to react. I really thought it’d be the sock thing, but now you’ve told me, I understand why I’m not allowed to react. You may continue, by the way. Tell me everything.”

  “You’re fucking impossible, you know that right?”

  “That’s why I’m your mate, because you’re Mrs Possible. We balance one another out.”

  I throw my head back, slapping my own face. “Woman.”

  “I’m not reacting, remember? You’re talking.”

  I take a deep breath. “I’ve known him a long time.”

  “Okay.”

  “He wants me to leave Gage.”

  “And how long has this affair been going on?”

  “Which part of it? The friendship part, or the actual fucking part?”

  “The AF part.”

  “I spent the night with him on Saturday. It was our first time.”

  “Wow, you must be really cut up about it all to be telling me so soon.”

  “I am.”

  We find a bench and sit down. I check on Rupert who is still sound asleep. Hetty keeps rocking Elizabeth back and forth in her pram because she’s more likely to wake up wanting a feed.

  “What was it like?” she asks. “The sex?”

  I bite my lip and cover my mouth. Just the thought of it all is enough to make me blush.

  “Wow, like that, eh?”

  “He’s absolutely gorgeous, Het. Inside and out.”

  “And he’s… you know?”

  “What? Good in bed?”

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “He’s extremely good in bed. He makes me feel so good about myself.”

  She inhales the cool, early spring air and exhales it even more dramatically. “Give it time, I say. A bit of time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  �
��If it’s meant to be, it’ll be Liz. However, if he’s one of those arty-farty types like most of your friends are, you could be just a passing whimsy to him and you know it.”

  I look down at my lap. “It crossed my mind.”

  “At the same time, perhaps you should seriously think about splitting from Gage if he’s not making you happy. You don’t have to leave one bloke for another, you know? You can leave Gage just because you want to, not because someone else has come a-knocking.”

  “I agree. You’ve got a good point.”

  “Has he got a big cock?” she asks, blurting it out. Thank god nobody is within earshot.

  “HETTY!”

  “I’ve been relatively well-behaved, but you can’t expect me to be good all the frickin’ time.”

  I laugh and try to brush her off, but she’s waiting with bated breath.

  “Yes, he has a big cock…”

  She sits there wriggling her eyebrows up and down, then she folds her arms. When Elizabeth lets out a tiny grumble, Hetty has to start rocking her back and forth again. I’m glad Hetty’s at the mercy of someone else for once, it’s about bloody time. Mind you, motherhood suits her. She’s still Het, but she does seem a lot more content with herself.

  “Well…” she says, sounding proud as punch that she’s not only embarrassed me today, but also made me say the word cock, too. “Joe tried it on recently, but I’m still not ready, down there. I’ve got to get my rocks off somehow, haven’t I? Can’t you tell me more about Lover Boy?”

  “Hetty, you’re so bad. Shut up, will you? I’m telling you nothing. I’m protecting him.”

  “Come on, just a little bit. Come on.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “As if you’ve only just discovered that.”

  We snigger like piglets on our bench.

  “Fine. Okay. When we first made love, he spread me over his kitchen sideboard and took me roughly. I came within about thirty seconds and then he made me come again.”

  Hetty’s eyes almost pop out of her head and her cheeks burn crimson. “Holy moly.”

  “I feel bad, but he’s already beating Gage in terms of orgasms given.”

  “But like I say, be careful,” she warns, and as we stand up to walk a little more, she puts her arm around me and leans down to kiss my hair. “Good on ya, girl.”

  “Oh, by the way, we’re going to make Etta Designs big. Are you ready?”

  “I’m all ears,” she says, and I start telling her my ideas.

  Chapter Seven

  AFTER LUNCHING WITH HETTY AT her house to discuss ideas for the future of her business, I arrive home with Rupert and Emily, who I’ve just picked up from school. Gage’s car is on the drive so I know he’s home. I’m not surprised when I look up and see the curtains on our bedroom upstairs closed tight shut.

  “Yay, Daddy, Daddy!” Emily exclaims, because she knows her father’s home.

  Everyone says Emily looks like me, but there are brief moments when I see Gage’s mother in our daughter – and it’s in those moments that I say a little prayer, hoping she doesn’t turn out like Nora, my mother-in-law.

  We all pile inside and I plop Rupert in his highchair, grabbing him and his sister a drink and a couple of bananas.

  “Watch Rupey while I go and see if Daddy is awake,” I tell Emily.

  “Okay, Mummy.”

  “I’ll be back down in two seconds.”

  I hurry upstairs and dash towards the master bedroom. I’m not surprised when I discover Gage flat on his stomach, snoring away. He’s wearing just his boxers and clearly, when he arrived home earlier, he did nothing more than shower and fall straight into bed. He’s not even managed to cover himself with the duvet.

  I check the en suite bathroom and find it’s still steamed up because he forgot to put the extractor fan on. Also, the toilet bowl is covered in what is either vomit or diarrhoea or a mixture of both. This is the type of husband he is. This is what he does.

  I quickly grab the bleach and swill a generous amount around the inside of the bowl, then put on the extractor fan and shut the door, leaving Gage right where he is.

  While he’s sleeping, I throw open a suitcase and start chucking some stuff inside.

  I’m not putting up with this anymore.

  I’ve packed a few things by the time I remember the kids are downstairs all by themselves.

  I dash back down and discover no calamity has befallen them. Emily is breaking up bits of banana for her brother and he’s happily making a mess.

  “Good girl, Ems. You’re such a good girl.”

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “He’s not very well so he’s having a nice sleep to feel all better. We’re going to Granny’s tonight so that Daddy can have a lovely long sleep without us waking him up. Okay?”

  She peers at me, confused. “We don’t go to Granny’s in the week.”

  “Yes, I know. Just this once. I’ll still take you to school in the morning, okay?”

  “Will Granny get me a treat like she normally does?”

  “I expect so.”

  “Okay, Mummy. Can I kiss Daddy night night, though?”

  “I don’t think so, honey. He smells a bit strange. I think we should leave him to it.”

  “Okay, Mummy.”

  I grab Rupert from his highchair and put him in the playpen in the living room. I put the telly on for Emily and hand her my tablet for her to play games on.

  “I’ll be back in just a little while. Shout me if Rupert tries to climb over again, all right?”

  “All right, Mummy,” she agrees.

  I dash back upstairs, my heart racing. I’m afraid he’ll wake up and realise what I’m doing. I’m even more afraid that I’ll lose my bottle and stay.

  However, as I throw in some more of my things, he doesn’t budge an inch. He’s snoring like an elephant.

  After I’ve packed the essentials, I carry my case into the corridor and start raiding the kids’ bedrooms, throwing their stuff on top of mine. I grab the necessary stuff my kids can’t sleep without and decide whatever I forget can be bought if need be.

  I zip up the case before flying downstairs. Out on the driveway, I shove the suitcase into the boot of my car. It’s a tight squeeze with the buggy already taking up space.

  I dash back indoors and rally the kids.

  Then we get in the car.

  Then we’re gone.

  MUM EMERGES FROM the house when she sees I’ve pulled up behind Dad’s car.

  “What’s all this?” she asks, looking surprised but delighted we’re here.

  “Let’s go inside.” I’ll get the case out later. For now, my priority is getting my kids indoors where Gage can’t hurt or harm me or my children.

  The house is quiet when we get inside, which tells me Dad’s out.

  “Here you go, kids,” she says, taking them into the playroom which used to be her office. It’s completely babyproof so it’s safe for Rupert to wander about. I know my children are a second chance for my mother, who had me late in life but would have loved to have had a whole bunch of kids.

  “Look after Rupey won’t you darling?” I ask Emily, as the pair start dragging out toys and building blocks to play with.

  “I’m hungry, Mummy,” she says.

  “I’ll get you some dinner soon,” says Grandma, receiving a sweet smile from Emily in response. My daughter has her grandmother wrapped around her little finger.

  I follow Mum into the kitchen where she puts the kettle on and checks on a shepherd’s pie she’s probably been cooking all day.

  “Are you staying the night?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “No.”

  Her silence speaks volumes; she’s neither surprised nor shocked I’m here.

  “What’s he done this time, then?” she finally asks, when I fail to come right out with it.

  “It won’t be forever, Mum. Just until we find our own place.”

  “I’m not bothered about t
hat, stay as long as you like. But I’d like to know what he’s done this time and whether I need to send Hetty round to sort him out.”

  I give her a sad smile. “Nobody can sort him out, Mum. He’s been away drinking all weekend, come back, left the toilet in a right state. He’s asleep right now, completely passed out. I’ve just had it, Mum. He’s driven himself from the airport in that state. It’s pathetic.”

  She pours water over our teabags and turns to me, arms folded. “Have you ever discussed with him that perhaps he needs help?”

  “He wouldn’t listen if I did, Mum. And you know it.”

  She removes our teabags and adds a splash of milk, handing me my cuppa.

  “You married him, darling. You should try to honour the pledge you made.”

  We’ve been through this so many times and each time, she says I should make my marriage work, and each time I try to explain that I can’t perform miracles. I’m just one woman. It takes two to make things work and so far, I’ve been the only one trying to repair the crumbling ruins of what formerly resembled an actual marriage. We were mad for one another once upon a time and I loved him, but then we had kids and I grew up – but he didn’t. Is it my fault – my responsibility – to awaken him to the reality of fatherhood and make him see that he has to put them first?

  My mother is of the generation where she believes that you should stick by your husband no matter what – but what she doesn’t seem to appreciate is that it’s a changing world out there. I realise there’s a lot I could say, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate any of it. She believes, in her heart, that I should negate myself to help Gage become a better person. She just doesn’t see that I’ve already tried to do that – and it hasn’t worked – and I don’t think it will ever be enough to make him see sense.

  “I think he needs help,” she says, “professional, like. Counselling, you know? Therapy, maybe. I think he could be a better person, he just needs help.”

  There’s a knock on the door, interrupting our conversation. Mum looks puzzled, while I feel sick, wondering if Gage has followed me. Mum leaves me in the kitchen to go and answer the door.