When I walk into the house, the girls are in the lounge with their friends. I quietly go into the kitchen and look around; there’s no sign of Shawn. As I carry my bag and briefcase upstairs I hear the lounge door open.
“Mum . . . when did you get back?” Lottie’s sweet, mischievous face is smiling broadly.
“Just this minute, Love.”
“Are you not well? You don’t look it.”
For much needed support, I lean on the bannister. “I’m not really, no. Where’s your dad?”
“He’s just gone into town.”
I manage a tiny smile. “Okay. I’m going to go and lie down for a bit.”
“Okay, Mum.” Without a care in the world, she closes the door. Oh, what I’d give to be a twelve-year-old girl! I feel relieved that Shawn’s not home. It gives me enough time to try and get my shit together. I cannot hide away and cry. I have to carry on.
Carrying on is what I do. It has become second nature to pretend all is fine in Jessica Neel’s world. I am not going to lie. Painting on a happy face every single day is unimaginably exhausting. Yet, I also have to pretend I am not exhausted either. It’s a never-ending circle of absolute exhaustion. I can’t allow myself to acknowledge how unhappy I am. I am such a pathetic fake! I feel fake and fucked up, but I can’t let my family see any of that. So instead, a little piece of myself silently dies each day.
Even going into work following a few days off is going to be hard, as my heart just isn’t in it. In fact, I don’t even think I have a heart anymore. I have this thing inside of me which pumps blood around my body, its only function being to keep me alive. Shit . . . I miss Jonny. His daily texts used to be the only thing that would get me through the week until we could meet, but I don’t even have those anymore.
Walking back into the office, I see there are still some of the bouquets Jonny bought me for my birthday. Yet another painful reminder lingers in my broken world.
“Jessica, how are you feeling now? Better, I hope?” Lydia is by my side in an instant. Her arms of friendship hug me tight. I haven’t had the strength to tell her what has happened. She is completely oblivious to the hurt that I am carrying because I haven’t had the courage to say that it’s really over.
“Getting there, Lydia.” I despondently put my bag and briefcase down on my desk.
“Jessica darling, should you even be here? You look bloody awful.” Her concerned eyes and her telling eyebrow look intently at me.
“I’m okay, I’d rather be here than feeling sorry for myself at home.”
“I thought you would still be on cloud nine after your birthday, but it would seem you have picked up an awful virus somewhere along the line. How inconvenient, darling.” Lydia soothes me. I wish it was only a virus. A virus I could handle!
“Don’t be nice to me, Lydia. I don’t deserve it. I apologise for not replying to any of your texts.”
“Don’t apologise, darling, Shawn told me how unwell you’ve been.”
“I’ve not been unwell, Lydia. I’m just not in a good place at the moment,” I sadly tell her.
Lydia looks up sharply. “You are worrying me now, Jessica. Whatever has happened? Oh, God, has Shawn found out?” Her mouth drops open.
“No. It’s not that. Jonny and I are finished.” I stare at the floor; I can’t bear to see Lydia being so kind and supportive. I can’t break down. I won’t break down!
“But why?” She manoeuvres me towards the sofa and sits me down, shuffling close beside me.
“We were having such a wonderful time, Lydia. For my birthday present Jonny had a personal shopper come to his home with a rail full of clothes and accessories. As I undressed, I noticed some bite marks on my body from the previous night with Shawn. I know I should have told Jonny about them straightaway but I was scared. Everything was absolutely perfect; I didn’t want to upset him. So I pushed them out of my mind. Later on though, Jonny saw the marks. He was mortified, beyond angry and so hurt. He just couldn’t handle it anymore.” I look to the heavens, hoping they will bring me some kind of peace.
Lydia swings her arm around me, bringing me closer to her body. “Oh, Jessica. What happened with you and Shawn on your birthday, how did you get the bite marks?”
I pick up one of the cushions beside me, cuddling it against my chest. “I got unbelievably drunk, Lydia. I don’t know why, but I found that day so terribly difficult. Shawn had a frisky look in his eyes and I just couldn’t face it. It has become so hard to be intimate with him, I know that sounds fucked up, but it’s true. So I drank to forget it all. However, we did have sex that night and Shawn got carried away, hence the bite marks. I knew Jonny was struggling with knowing that Shawn and I were still having sex, but Griffin Denley and then the bite marks just tipped Jonny right over the edge.”
“Griffin Denley was there?” Lydia’s eyes light up with interest.
“He is vile, Lydia. You would make mincemeat of him. He tried it on with me and Jonny saw everything. I have never seen him so upset. Then he fired Erin Laurelson because she made some bitchy comment about me not being ‘an honest type,’ but she’s bloody well right. I’m not.” I break down; hopelessness is the only thing I now feel.
Lydia holds me tighter. “A lot has happened, darling. No wonder you are in such a mess, you should have called me.”
“I couldn’t, Lydia. I am struggling here. It’s too painful to even mention his name.”
Lydia studies my face. Her dark eyes read it like it’s a chapter from a book. “Shit, Jessica, you’ve only gone and fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”
“Yes . . . yes, I have.” I admit to Lydia.
“Well thank fuck for that! It’s about time you admitted that to yourself. Your true feelings will be the foundation for whatever decisions you make from now on.”
I vehemently shake my head. “There is no decision to be made. Jonny made the decision for me. It was killing him having to share me. He tried to be with me and our little arrangement worked for a while, but he wanted more and I wasn’t able to give him that. He would never make me choose and I love him for that. But now I am home, with Shawn and the girls. I’ve never felt more lonely and unhappy as I do now.” More of my pooling tears spill out over my lower lids, raining down my cheeks.
“Oh, come here, darling,” Lydia says, squeezing me tight in her sympathetic arms. “I feel awful, knowing you were dealing with this all on your own, Jessica.”
I sob into her shoulder. “I had to deal with it, Lydia. I have to try and pick up all the pieces of my fucked up life.”
“But, Jessica. You are in love with Jonny, does he know?” Lydia asks, I slowly shake my head. “What about Shawn?” she asks.
“It doesn’t feel the same anymore, I know that. I am resentful towards him for doing that to my body and in a way; I blame him for the end of me and Jonny. Which I know is both ridiculous and untrue. Ultimately, I am to blame for all of this, Lydia. I was the one having the affair. Jonny fell for a married woman and Shawn is blissfully unaware that his wife is a cruel cheat. I’d say karma has come to give me a bloody big kick up the ass!”
Lydia sighs. “So, that’s it?”
“That’s it. I have to try to live my life now and hope I can get back on track. My selfishness has already hurt one person I love, I cannot hurt anyone else,” I say with sadness suffocating every living part of me.
“At the cost of your own happiness?” Lydia questions.
“At the cost of keeping my family’s happiness,” I whisper.
“Easier said than done though, darling. Are you sure you want this?”
“What I want doesn’t come into it, Lydia. All I know is no matter what I feel for Jonny, I can’t leave Shawn and hurt my girls. It’s not going to be easy. In fact, I know every single day is going to be torture because I ache so, so much for Jonny. I can’t eat or sleep. I feel nauseous all the time. My head feels like it’s going to explode. This guttural pain I feel inside is awful; it’s desolate and empty inside
of me. I think I am literally going to stop breathing because I am barely able to function without him. I can honestly understand how some people die from a broken heart, because I have one. I just pray that I am able to carry on.”
Lydia’s eyes begin to fill. Her tears glisten; I see her desperately trying to refrain from crying. My pathetic, self-inflicted life is infecting everyone around me. As hard as I’m trying to hold it all together, I can’t seem to make it all better. I need to know things are going to get better, that I am going to feel better. It’s the last bit of hope I possess.
A month passes by, and the emptiness hasn’t subsided. I float through my life as a wife, mother, friend and colleague. Nothing seems to make me smile. I can’t imagine ever being happy again. My life is in a permanent and stagnant state of melancholy. Work takes my mind off things for a while, giving me precious respite from my despairing thoughts.
Karma herself, is working overtime with me. Oh, she’s having a fan-bloody-tastic time torturing me. For everywhere I look or go, there seems to be Jonny’s face haunting me. At the hairdressers, there’s a pile of magazines containing articles of him. When I go to the local shops, his face adorns the magazine shelves. Driving along in my car, I turn on the radio; once again his voice is there to taunt me as he’s giving an interview. Fuck off Karma. I know I’m an evil person. You don’t have to keep reminding me!
Now the girls have him on the bloody television; they are watching Viewer’s Voice, a star studded television awards show. Jonny has been nominated in the best actor category. I try to occupy myself on my laptop as they show clips of all the nominees; anything to prevent me from having to look.
“Hey Liss, who do you think will win?” Lottie excitedly asks her sister as she shoves a handful of tortillas into her mouth.
“It has to be Jonny Riley! I wonder who he’s taken with him?” That has my attention for a second. Who exactly is worthy enough to accompany him? The television screen has all the rows of celebrities sitting there with their designer smiles painted on their faces as clips of all the nominees are shown. The cameraman zooms in on the nominated actors and when I see Jonny’s face my heart literally stops. My beautiful Jonny; the man I will never get to touch ever again.
I cannot bear this any longer. I stand up to leave the room as they announce him as the winner. I simply cannot, will not, endure the torture of hearing him give his acceptance speech.
“Do you girls want a sandwich?” I ask without emotion.
“No thanks, Mum. I told you, Lottie, that Jonny Riley would win.” She innocently chats away to her sister, unaware that by just saying his name she is killing a little more inside of me.
As I’m buttering some bread, Shawn joins me. He comes up behind me, holding me in his husbandly arms and snuggling up close into the crook of my neck. I try not to tense up from his touch, but it’s pointless trying to hide the way my body reacts to him. I manoeuvre out of his way, pretending I need to get something from the cupboard on the other side of the room.
“Jessica, is something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine.” I continue to make my sandwich. I daren’t look at him, though I can feel his worried stare on the top of my head. His confusion feels heavy and oppressive.
“I’m worried about you, Babe. You never look well. You are exhausted all the time. I don’t know . . . you’ve been distant with me.”
“You mean I’ve not been having sex with you?” I bitterly reply.
“No, I don’t mean just that. You’ve not been talking to me; you can’t stand me touching you. Shit, Jessica, you can barely even look at me, you are doing it right now.” His hand slams down on mine, preventing me from continuing to make my sandwich.
I really want to scream and shout at him, ‘No, I’m not okay . . . I don’t even know what I’m doing these days. I am merely existing at the moment!’ But think better of it. Instead, I study his crestfallen face. His dark hair and blue eyes are still the same, but I no longer am. I want to unburden myself, but that would mean burdening him, and of course the girls too.
I can’t do it to them. So as usual, I do what I always do . . . lie.
I try to give him a promising smile; a smile which I’ve had to dig really deep to get in order to place it on my face. “I’m still recovering from that bloody virus. I’ll be fine, Shawn.”
“Go to the doctors, maybe you need to get checked over? Do you think you’ve taken on too much at work with the extra day?” Shawn asks, stroking my shoulder.
I shake my head. ”I don’t think so, and Lydia has been fantastic with me. She never makes me feel bad for having time off. In fact, she said she will join me at the trade show in Sheffield next week, to ensure I’m not doing too much by myself.”
Shawn’s eyes lift, looking relieved. “Oh, that’s good to hear. That makes me feel a little better knowing that Lydia is going, too.” At least one of us feels better! Shawn holds me in his relieved arms. His familiar smell and arms do little to comfort me these days. I hold him tight, knowing it’s only him who is feeling better for me doing so.
Waking up on the morning Lydia and I are travelling up to Sheffield for a trade fair is the same as all the other mornings. My first thought is Jonny, just as my last thought at night is Jonny.
I lie in bed for a few moments, summoning the strength to get out of bed. Is this aching ever going to bloody go away? I sit up, grimacing at the pain in my shoulder. I must have slept on it wrong or something? Standing up, I feel dizzy and disorientated. I really don’t feel very good at all. I am finding it hard to even stand up because of the gripping pain terrorising my abdomen. As the cramping gets worse, I double over. My panic is barely containable when I notice the blood between my legs. What is wrong with me? Everything becomes such a daze. I feel so light-headed and detached from my body, that it doesn’t feel real. Although this pain, fuck the pain is very real!
I manage to make it to the toilet, holding onto the walls as I stagger along. That’s when I hear Shawn coming up the stairs, whistling a happy tune.
“Shawn, I’m bleeding and it’s bad.” I screw my face up in pain.
In an instant I’m in his arms. “Shit! Jessica, what’s wrong?”
I wince as the pain continues to rip through my body. “I don’t know, but it’s hurting really bad, please call someone,” I pant.
“Fuck . . . you’re really bleeding.” The distress in Shawn’s voice only adds to my panic.
I struggle to speak. “Please call Lydia, too. She’ll be waiting for me at the train station.”
“I will in a minute, but first you need a doctor.” Shawn helps me to sit down onto the toilet; I slump down onto it. The excruciating pain is making it really difficult for me to breathe. I pull my knees up to my chest as the pain sears through me. I see the blood in the toilet. Terror pushes the bile out of my throat with such fierce velocity that Shawn has to jump back.
“Shawn, I’m scared. Please call a doctor.” The tears streak down my hot, flushed cheeks.
“Stay there, Babe, I’ll be back in a minute.” I have never heard Shawn sound so panicked before.
The girls get up to find out what is going on. Lissy walks in and as soon as she sees me, she looks absolutely terrified.
“Mum, what’s happening?”
“I’ll be okay, Love. Dad’s calling a doctor.” I try to stand but can’t.
“Here Mum, I’ll help you.” Lissy tries to put her arms around me and lift me up. We somehow manage to get me up on my feet but I’m feeling faint and have to lean heavily on her for support. I hear Lottie in the background asking her dad what is happening, Shawn asks her to wait as he’s on the phone. All this is happening around me, but it doesn’t seem real. What is wrong with me? We make it back to my bed, but the pain increases; it’s agonisingly unbearable. I’m dying!
Shawn has the phone in his hand as he puts his head around the bedroom door. “The doctors want you to come down straight away, but maybe you need an ambulance?”
I�
�m trying to answer him, but find I can’t. I feel strange. Although I’m aware Shawn is speaking to me, I can’t process his words, as the pain has me too much in its excruciating grip. I feel like I am drifting. Everything and everyone is fading away. A comforting blackness reaches out for me, pulling me down into a deep oblivion.
I’m trying so hard to open my eyes, but my lids no longer cooperate. My throat is dry and sore. I feel heavy, groggy and worse than ever. I am barely conscious, and so afraid because I don’t know what is happening to me. The only thing I am aware of is, I am not at home. My senses have gone into overdrive. The sounds and smells are all alien to me. I hear my name being called but my damn eyes won’t open.
“Jessica . . . Jessica?” I hear Lydia’s voice. I feel like I’m in a dark tunnel. I can’t see her but I can hear her. I float down the tunnel, getting closer and closer to her voice. I’m trying to answer, but only a throaty groan comes out. “Try to open your eyes, darling.” With sheer determination, I manage to prise them open, ever so slightly. The bright lights blind me so much that it hurts. I am trying to look at Lydia’s face, but she’s just a faceless shape.
I try to speak, “Wh . . . where’s Sh . . . Shawn?”
“Don’t worry about Shawn, just yet. You need to wake up properly first, then we’ll talk.” Lydia’s shaky voice replies. What does that even mean? I want to see Shawn and the girls. I want to know what has happened to me.
“Lydia . . . what’s wrong with me?” This time I manage a whisper.
“It was touch and go, Jessica. You’ve suffered an ectopic pregnancy, darling. Your fallopian tube burst and that’s why you are here in the hospital. You collapsed at home, I didn’t know if you’d be all right,” Lydia blurts it all out so quickly between choking sobs. I actually have to take a few seconds to process what she’s said.
I swallow hard, the words ‘ectopic’ and ‘pregnancy’ hit me hard. If it weren’t for the fact I feel so weak, I’d be crying and screaming. I just feel so numb, a confused nothingness. I honestly don’t know how long it took for the enormity of the situation to hit me. Shawn had a vasectomy a couple of years after Lottie was born as we didn’t want any more children. Well, I wasn’t totally opposed to the idea of more children, but Shawn was absolutely positive he didn’t want to have anymore. I always felt it was a bold decision to make for a man so young, but he was adamant that it was what he wanted to do. In some ways, I was relieved, as it took the pressure off me regarding control over contraception. That’s when it truly hits. Shit! Oh, my God! This baby wasn’t Shawn’s! It can’t be Shawn’s!
A Famous Affair Page 17
