by Nicky Webber
Maddy’s thoughts turned to Logan. Should she call him and warn him that Fred may be only fifteen minutes away or leave the whole thing to fate?
CHAPTER 27
Broken Not Beaten
Logan, dressed in jeans and a light gray pullover, watches through the kitchen window as two children from next door play in the driveway. He clears away his breakfast plate and cutlery and pours another mug of coffee. Logan still finds it difficult to live alone now, and far worse, eating by himself adds to his depressed isolation. He had never visualized his life ending up like this, sitting alone at the kitchen table, eating meals by himself in utter silence. Now in his mid-fifties, his children have grown up and left home, his wife has gone and no one else is interested enough to share a conversation at mealtimes. Sadly, Rex, their loving black Labrador of fourteen-years, passed away in Spring, six months after Mila’s funeral. Logan sighs; even his dog couldn’t stand the oppressive nature of living in this house without Mila.
His cell phone tempts him to text Maddy and see if they could catch up for an early lunch, especially as Fred will be out cycling until 1.00pm. He picks up his cell phone and jumps as the doorbell gives a shrill ring. An urgent and determined three more rings pierces Logan’s silent reverie before he makes it into the entranceway. Logan opens the front door, delighted to see Fred. He instantly realizes Fred looks dismayed, flushed, and breathless.
‘Come on in. Glad you popped over. I’ll put the coffee on.’ He turns and walks back into the kitchen. Fred says nothing but follows his friend to the coffee machine stationed patiently on the countertop next to the sink.
‘I’ve got a few things to say to you,’ Fred grapples to keep his anger in check.
Logan paused, turns and looks at his friend. ‘You okay?’ His friend’s agitated demeanor unsettles him.
‘No! Forget about coffee,’ Fred says. ‘Sit down.’
‘Great to see you. Pleasant surprise on a Sunday,’ Logan senses rising anxiety and uncertainty about Fred’s early morning attitude. This is not the man he knows and loves.
‘Wish I could say the same, Logan.’ Fred hardly ever uses his name, and his words are sharp and direct. It is Logan’s turn to feel flustered and uneasy. ‘You can pour me a stiff drink. Some of that expensive whiskey you’re always bragging about.’
Logan walks over to an antique sideboard and removes a single malt whiskey and two short crystal-cut glasses from the cupboard. Glasses that Fred had given him for his birthday two-years ago. The irony isn’t lost on either man. Logan maintains a polite indifference until he understands Fred’s distress.
‘Ice? You know it’s only ten in the morning?’
‘Forget the platitudes, Mr. Jones. How long have you been fucking my wife?’
Logan suffers a sharp jolt, his heart and sphincter constrict in unison. Fred is ready to pounce.
Adrenalin rushes into Logan’s bloodstream, and he feels a slight tremor in his hands. Stark reality delivered by an angry man can’t be taken lightly. He keeps his usual acerbic remarks to himself, but realizes he is seriously in trouble with little more than a thread of their brotherly love to cling to.
‘Fred, let me explain…’
‘Yeah,’ interrupts Fred. ‘I’m fluent in cunty too! Explain? What a damn good idea.’ He folds his arms across his chest as Logan pours the whiskey. He stares at Logan, simmering with self-restraint.
Logan walks into the lounge, followed by Fred. The room’s soft hues and neutral tones remind both men of the laughter, lively discussions and celebrations of family birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases together. The men sit opposite one another. The glass and chrome coffee table becomes a blockade between them.
Logan takes Fred’s direct eye contact as a sign of unswerving aggression. He gulps some of the amber liquid, swallowing hard. ‘First off, my apologies to you, Fred, unreservedly. I love you like a brother. You’re the best brother anyone could wish for. We didn’t want to hurt you, but we have. I deserve everything you want to throw at me. I want to…’
‘You want to play it like that?’ Fred interjects. ‘What’s the matter, pussy? You too wet to tell me straight?’ His words, heavy with boredom and sarcasm, but a little less enraged than the night before. ‘You’ve been banging my wife, and you want to explain? Are you serious? What the hell is there to explain?’
‘Please Fred, hear me out and maybe we can understand one another.’
Raised eyebrows shadow Fred’s incredulous expression, conveying his complete contempt for anything Logan has to express.
Logan had known him since childhood and expects him to unpick every single detail, every phrase, and argument. He has to play this carefully. He is starting with a handicap. Fred already has him in checkmate.
‘Where to begin,’ Logan mutters, almost to himself. ‘You know how much I loved Mila. How much I depended on her. She was everything to me. I spent months, almost a year, completely lost. If I was honest with myself, I’m still lost without her.’ He took another sip of the whiskey as Fred swirls his glass, the ice gently clinking against the sides, and looks down at the carpet between his shoes. When he shifts position, he glances up again. Both men eyeball one another, but Fred lets Logan talk and see if his story matches his wife’s.
‘I felt so broken after Mila’s death, and you know Fred, you’ve commented on it to me yourself, how similar the two women are. They were like reflections of one another — even their personalities. I got closer to Maddy through grief. We talked about our shared loss and heartbreak and somehow in the mix and emotional distress we overstepped the line. I didn’t mean to… and to be fair, it was me. Maddy didn’t start this again. I did.’
‘Let me interrupt you here, Logan. You are quoting Maddy, almost verbatim.’ Fred put on a high-pitched female voice. ‘We all love one another, and I couldn’t help it. I don’t know how it started, please forgive me, blah fucking blah.’
‘But,…’
Fred ignores Logan’s interruption. ‘Are we all lost without Mila? Are we, for the rest of our wretched lives? Have the boundaries and social restraints of fidelity somehow vanished because she has? Are we now in some kind of moral vacuum? One that allows comfort in sleeping with someone else’s wife? Is that it? Has loyalty flown out the window too? Am I missing something here? Has the death of your wife allowed you to climb into bed with mine?’
Logan sucks in his next breath and holds it. What could he say to this? How could he ever explain? It was no use. There was no obvious way out of this mess. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like that, Fred. I wanted to say…’
‘You know,’ Fred cut in. ‘I heard all this last night from Maddy trying to explain. Do you understand that life for me is in the past and my future has just gone up in smoke?’
‘Have you ever considered the future?’ Logan shot back.
His face darkened, and in a harsh guttural voice Fred slowly and deliberately spat out his words in anger. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me about the future! Where were your considerations about future consequences when you were screwing my wife?’
Logan leans in across the table, holding Fred’s gaze. ‘My God. You know me. Don’t you think I struggled with the dark side of all of this? I stupidly lost my mind. A confluence of emotional forces merged. In my struggle and sadness, I clung… onto Maddy. It was wrong. I get that. But I clung onto her for solace. I clung onto her for comfort, Fred. I clung onto you, too. We both sobbed our hearts out that first week after Mila’s funeral. It was my wife that died — not yours. You still had the love and marriage to Maddy. I lost everything. It was wrong. I admit it. Neither of us were thinking. It was dumb and stupid.’ Tears brim into both men’s eyes, and a heavy silence hangs between them. No longer a wall, a barrier to understanding, but emotional suffocation and deep sorrow they both know only too well.
Logan coughs, considering if he should risk carrying on talking. He takes Fred’s silence to mean he is softening and shifting away from raw fury. He swallows hard and pleads
with his best friend. ‘I never meant it to be like this. Maddy loves you, and I love you. Divorce means everything, all the good things between the three… the four of us will disappear.’
Fred tilts his head, the hard lines of his lips press together in resignation. His face is wretched, desolate at the loss they both suffer. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he sobs, fighting to control his misery. Logan reaches forward and hugs his friend as they both weep and try to grasp at forgiveness and understanding.
After a few moments, they wipe the tears away with the ball of their hands and stare at one another. Logan grabs his glass and Fred follows, raising his glass to Logan, gently clinking them together.
‘To friendship first,’ Fred says, and gives a crooked grin. ‘I can’t stand to lose Maddy either.’
‘I know,’ smiles Logan uncertainly. ‘We can’t lose Maddy.’
They both gulp the last of the watery dregs of their whiskey and place the glasses back on the table.
‘What are we going to do?’ Fred asks. His voice is slightly calmer. The drink helps ease him into searching for a reasonable solution.
Entirely out of left field, Logan puts his cards on the table. ‘It won’t be easy. But can’t we make something work between the three of us? Why do we have to follow convention?’
It’s Fred’s turn to look astounded. He is in over his head. He wonders if the two whiskeys on an empty stomach have colored his judgment or dulled his hearing. Has he heard Logan, right?
‘What are you saying?’ Fred frowns, vaguely unsure. ‘We all play happy families together? I’m guessing, Logan, that you are tickling the old trout and expecting me to come to the surface.’ Disenchanted, Fred’s lips form a hard line, eyebrows raised as if his face is beyond disbelief.
Both men hesitantly laugh. The blurred boundary between them is a reminder of happier times.
‘Okay, so what’s your long-term plan then?’ Logan is less conciliatory and shakes Fred from his emotional rampage and victim status. ‘Is this about an enduring hatred, a big blow-up between us, and it ends in divorce? Is that your aim?’ He had shaken Fred out of his torpor. Logan repeats the bitter medicine they will all have to swallow. ‘Divorce for you and Maddy? Is that what you want?’ The word divorce hung in the air between the two silent men, stunned by static provocation. They are both turning over the full measure and misery of separation and how it will cause catastrophic pain to both families.
In a calm and softer tone, Logan tries again. ‘Fredrik Davis, you are my closest and bestest friend.’ His voice begs for attention, and he is desperate to evoke a response, free of emotional pain. ‘What would I do without you in my life? I love you as I love Maddy and loved my wife. I love us all, and as the years have gone by, the margins eroded into a kind of blurred line, faintly under the surface. We wanted to tell you sooner. We both did, but the fear of hurting you stopped us both in our tracks. You must know Maddy loves you as she always has. That will never change, and I respect that about her.’
Fred lifts his whiskey tumbler and shows he needs more. Logan silently pours, filling the glass well over halfway, with the remnants of the ice quietly jostling in the amber liquid. He adds more to his drink and doesn’t offer to replenish the ice. Their conversation needs no more domestic interruption.
Together, they both take a deep swig from their drinks. Fred holds it in his mouth as he leans back on the floral sofa and swallows. He knows Logan is right. All three of them will have their lives ripped apart forever.
‘All I know,’ says Fred, ‘is that my life wouldn’t be worth living without Maddy… and without you in it too.’
Logan’s shoulders heave, inhaling with relief. Finally, Fred understands and grasps the magnitude of their need for one another.
Fred momentarily pauses. ‘I remember the two of you together when we were Uni students all those years ago.’ They both hesitate, recalling the memory. ‘How long has he been involved with you this time?’
Adrenalin pulses through Logan’s mind, racing to think about what his answer should be. Remembering, Maddy swore she would never tell Fred about Hawke or any of their other intermittent flings. He knows fling is the wrong word, given their ongoing relationship, but he has to think fast.
‘Like I said,’ Logan starts, keeping his expression passive. ‘It was a few weeks after Mila passed away. I was distraught, and one thing ... Well, you know the drill, so to speak.’
Fred’s frown deepens, holding back a sarcastic remark. He knows he has to swallow his pride to maintain his friendship with Logan and to save what remains of his marriage to Maddy, too. The three of them were like the Bermuda triangle. Each one a point, on an immovable latitude, an invisible structure that will have to last the distance or disappear.
‘Fred, divorce is just one of various choices. It’s the most common response, but I agree ours is unusual. But we’re all fortunate to be so close. Why destroy it? Why do what society dictates? We’re grown-ups with a life that works. Why change it? Self-destruction doesn’t have to be part of our future, Fred.’
Fred’s mouth forms a weak smile. ‘Yeah, you’re a great Marketer, Mr. Jones. Also plying me with world class whiskey at breakfast time is a genius maneuver. I think it’s working… for now! I expected nothing less from you.’
‘It still doesn’t take away your shock and upset,’ Logan says. ‘I get it. It’s a damn mess and heart-breaking. We’re dealing with the drama of living on without Mila in our lives.’ He snorts. Recalling something amusing. ‘Do you remember when we talked about that Athlete Zamperini a few weeks ago? The Nazis tortured him in WWII. ‘Remember, we were both astounded at how he suffered so much, but lived until he was ninety-seven years old. It was as if torture had somehow paid off and extended his life.’
Fred slowly shakes his head, recalling the conversation. ‘Yeah, right? I hear you Logan. Do you feel now like having your life extended?’
Suddenly, with no tension or guile, both friends burst out laughing. They stand up from the sofa, Logan moving around the coffee table and bear-hugged one another.
Fred’s cell phone buzzes, and he reaches into his jean’s pocket while glancing up at Logan. ‘It’s Maddy,’ he says. I’ll tell her I want a divorce ‘cos the two of us are going to get married and live happily ever after.’
‘Ordinarily, I’d laugh at that,’ smiles Logan, ‘but I think I’m still in shock that you’re keen to torture me into old age.’
‘You and me both,’ Fred ventures and grins disarmingly. He switches off his phone, shoving it back into his pocket.
‘She’ll keep,’ he states. Logan hugs Fred again. ‘We’ll work this out somehow. I promise.’
CHAPTER 28
Remains of the Marriage
The following evening Maddy and Fred talk over dinner, discussing their dilemma. Somehow the heat has gone out of Fred’s rage, but Maddy remains cautious, not wanting to rip the scab from the wound. She encourages Fred to talk, and they both discover he has plenty to say.
‘Logan argues divorce will mean each of us ends up with half of what we own. And his assets will be unaffected. So basically, I’d be paying the price for the two of you screwing up my life.’
Maddy glances down at her hands, filled with an overwhelming sense of shame and remorse. How had it come to this? Why hadn’t she ever fully considered the wretchedness of this possibility?
‘Plus,’ Fred continues, ‘I’ll have no one to cook and clean, and you know how I hate ironing.’ He is in a better mood, and they both exchange a weak grin and sip the sassy red wine he pours as they continue eating their meal. Maddy cooked a favorite of Fred’s, like some small compensation, to reach out and lay the foundations for unlikely forgiveness.
‘Logan should do all the housework,’ Maddy volunteers. ‘Don’t you think? As penance for coveting another man’s wife?’
‘Damn excellent idea, but what kind of penance are you going to undertake? I mean, I’m the only innocent party here.’ He grins, swirling hi
s wine, taking another bold mouthful.
Maddy looks at him sideways. ‘Really? Innocent?’ She has a mischievous look in her eyes as she nips his innocence in the making. ‘Remember that moxie little brazen account manager you had at your work ... ummm… must be about ten-years ago now. You used to come home full of the joys and the afterglow of banging that blonde’s brains out!’ She laughs, and Fred looks astounded. It wasn’t often Maddy has him in check-mate. She basks in the unforeseen glory, if you could call it that, of being able to use this fragile fragment of suspicion to mollify her self-righteous husband.
‘What are you talking about, Maddy?’ Fred says. ‘Making up bullshit to deflect your culpability?’
‘Nice try but shove the cigar,’ she comes back fast. ‘I knew you were up to no good. No point in giving me some eyewash over your extracurricular activities.’
Fred falls silent.
‘Come on. I’ve had to ride the humiliation and abuse for my compromising behavior. You’ve got the goods, so why not come clean? Nothing to lose.’ Maddy uses that double-blind bluff that has caught him out before. ‘Fess up. Come on. Everyone else has.’
Fred looks down and shakes his head. ‘Nah. I lusted after her for a while, but that was all. Didn’t get anybody part anywhere near her, especially after I found out she had a boyfriend who was a wrestling champ.’
‘Wise man!’ Maddy lets him get away with it. What was the point of hounding him now, but she knows from a photo a friend had given her that a kiss is always a kiss? Some friend! None of it matters now they are in a much better space. She will take her punishment, even if it means living with two men. Really? TWO men! She has to be losing both her marbles.
As if Fred can read her mind, he asks; ‘Would you seriously undertake all the domestic stuff for two men, then? Logan and I will share the yard work.’
Maddy laughs. ‘I’m picking he will do penance by including your half of the domestic chores to maintain the friendship after all of this.’
