by Eva Mazza
Lee pushed his chair back and it fell to the floor with a crash. The noise shook her to the core. “Damn it, Frankie, you’ve been fucking around, and you’ve got nothing to say?” He chucked ice into a whisky glass he retrieved from the kitchen cupboard.
Frankie pushed her plate of food aside. What was she supposed to do or say? How much did he know?
“When I married you, Frankie, warts and all, you agreed to conduct yourself in a manner that befitted a wife and mother.” Frankie so wanted to do a Disney Channel eye roll, but she daren’t. She was a child again, and Lee was her mother, her teachers, the principal all rolled into one. She was that delinquent kid, the one who would never be good enough. “That’s all I asked of you in exchange for everything I have. Everything!”
Before Lee had proposed to her, he had admitted that her past was an issue, especially with his parents. He was a sought-after bachelor and could have taken his pick. And though he loved her, he had told her that he wasn’t sure she could be a loyal and steadfast wife and mother.
“You’re not royalty for fuck’s sake!” she had joked.
“Not true, darling,” he had smiled back. “We are as close to royalty as you can get in Stellenbosch. We’re known as blue blood.” She laughed. “It’s true. You’ve got to know that I’ve gone against what I’ve been raised to think and do, by marrying you. You can’t fuck it up for me. Tell me you won’t fuck it up.”
Frankie had wanted him, and she had never hidden the fact that she desired everything he had stood for: status, wealth and a lifestyle she had only dreamed of. She knew what a catch he was, and she had to admit that she had been shocked he would even consider her for his wife. Girls like her very seldom married a man of Lee’s standing. They shagged them, yes, but it seldom ended with a ring on their finger.
“That French diplomat you met in London – I see you’ve ended that relationship.”
Frankie did not respond. She knew he knew about the diplomat because John had told her. But this was the first time he had ever spoken to her about him.
“Is the affair over?”
Forgetting to breathe, she gasped for air.
“Well? Has it or has it not ended?” he shouted.
“Yes, it has. But look, Lee, you haven’t exactly been meeting my needs.”
Lee shook his head in disbelief. Frankie cringed at how pathetic she sounded.
“Are you really that cold hearted? I was diagnosed with diabetes. Give me a break. The medication suppressed my libido. I told you it wouldn’t be a permanent thing. How disappointing to find that my wife loves me only in health. How’s that for a rude awakening? What’s worse is that while I’m trying to deal with my illness, Frankie is only thinking about Frankie. Again.”
He downed his scotch and poured another. “It’s a pattern with you, isn’t it? We said we were going to try for two children, but you couldn’t deal with losing your figure for a second time. I’m diagnosed with a serious illness, and the only thing you give a shit about is whether you’ll ever get laid again. So much so that you screw a diplomat, and at my personal cost. Fuck! I footed your hotel bill!” His anger mounted again. “As if that wasn’t enough, you then move on to bang your best friend’s husband at the expense of your only real friendship. Was that even a consideration to you? And with my so-called best mate.”
There! He knew about her and John. Frankie recoiled. “You don’t give a fuck about anyone, do you?”
She looked up. Her husband towered over her as she sat at the table trying to steady her breath. He wanted, more than anything, to slap her. She could feel it, his eyes burnt into her. It was a look she recognised. It was the first time she had seen it in him.
But then he seemed to collect himself. He righted his chair and he slumped back into it across from her. His voice was softer this time. “What a win for you – Jen being away. You could spend the whole night with her husband, in their bed, or wherever it is you prefer to fuck. Pity Jen messed things up. How fucking inconsiderate of her to call you ’cause maybe she needed to cry on her best friend’s shoulder.” Frankie looked at Lee. He wasn’t looking at her. “I’m ashamed for you, for both of you!” His eyes met hers and Frankie’s head dropped. “I don’t know what a doos you think I am, but I will no longer be made a fool of and I will no longer allow you to make a fool of Jen.”
The last time Frankie had seen Lee even nearly this enraged was when she’d refused to try for a second child. Of course she felt remorse about Jen, but it had never been her intention to break up the marriage. What she felt most at that moment was afraid – afraid she would lose Lee, and as a result, lose absolutely everything.
“I’m sorry, Lee,” she said in a little-girl voice. “I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re my world.”
“Ag kak, Frankie! I’m supposed to believe your bullshit? Don’t insult me, please. That’s enough. Just shut up and let me speak. You’re not in a position to say another word. You hear me?”
Frankie nodded. Her finger throbbed.
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do so that your Persian rug isn’t ripped from under you; because that’s what you’re really scared of, be honest, you gold digging, calculating…”
The unspoken word ‘whore’ hung in the air between them.
He finished his scotch and chewed on the ice as if this would cool his temper. It seemed to work, because when he spoke again, it was with calm control. “You will end this, uh, relationship with John. I don’t care how you do it. Next, my darling wife, he cannot know I know about your affair, d’you understand? I’m warning you, if you want to save what marriage we have, do not tell him I know about you two. And you will continue to be Jen’s friend, unless of course she finds out what you’ve been doing.”
Frankie was about to interrupt him, but she knew he’d meant it when he said she should shut up.
“Unless she figures it out on her own, she must never know. She’s dealt with enough, what with a cheating father and a fuckhead husband who has no fucking concept of the words loyalty and honesty. Come to think of it, you’re kindred spirits, aren’t you?” Lee’s laugh chilled her. “Except, I think that you were loyal to him. What a crap surprise it must’ve been to find out about Patty. But Patty is just a drop in the ocean of his lies and deceit.” Lee smirked. “Ag, please don’t kid yourself into believing that you’re the only one besides Patty. John has many, many women.” As he spoke, he placed a plain brown envelope in front of his wife. She looked at it but didn’t move to see what its contents were.“Aren’t you curious? Open it. Look at the pictures of your adoring lover. See how devoted he is to you.”
Frankie’s shoulders shook as she wept. She couldn’t believe how cruelly her husband was behaving. He had never spoken to her like this before. He hardly ever swore at her. And now she was made to open the envelope. She tore off the seal and shook the contents onto the table. Pictures of John with different women, some of whom Frankie knew or had seen around revealed themselves to her. She lifted one, looked at it then put it down replacing it with another. Lee stood over her, his arms crossed, making sure she had seen every one of them. One series of shots captured John sitting at a bar counter alone. A woman joins him, they talk and then there’s a shot of him lighting her cigarette. The final shot in the series is of him leaving the bar with his hand wrapped around her waist. Frankie was one of a multitude of women. Despite feeling anger towards John, it was Lee at whom she wanted to lash out; he had succeeded in humiliating her, and what was worse, it was her husband who had been the one to expose her lover’s sexual promiscuity.
“Hurts, doesn’t it, darling?”
There were no photos of her with John. She couldn’t be sure that Lee didn’t have any; he just hadn’t included them with the others. He’s been planning this for months. He’s been planning to hurt and humiliate me and now he’s enjoying it. Frankie did not believe she deserved this kind of humiliation at the hands of her husband.
“I only hope you’ve
been taking precautions,” he said as he left the kitchen, “or else you’ve given yourself and me something more to worry about.”
Frankie followed him down the passage. When he emerged from their bedroom carrying an overnight bag, she started to panic.
“Where are you going, Lee?”
He ignored her as he walked past her to the front door.
“It’s late. Please don’t go,” she begged, running after him, pulling at his shirt. “You spent last night away! Please, don’t go, Lee. I love you. Don’t leave me alone. Stay. Let’s talk things through, please.” He shrugged her off, but she grabbed onto him again.
“Don’t, Frankie. Don’t cause a scene. I’m out of here. I’m giving you time to think about the kind of wife and friend, and in fact, mother, you’ve been over the last, what’s it, two and a half years?”
“I’ll sleep in another room. Please, Lee, don’t leave me!”
But he had already closed the car door and was reversing down the driveway. She couldn’t run after him; the staff would see her. They must have already heard the fighting. Lee hated a scene and tonight had been so out of character. She shut the front door, ran to her phone and tried calling him, but his phone diverted to voicemail.
Frankie’s sobbing was guttural, uncontrollable. She couldn’t conceive being without him. She knew she had pushed him too far. She had crossed that non-negotiable line, and there was no turning back. Where was he going? Was he checking in to a hotel or did he have someone to go to? She wished she had someone to phone. She didn’t want to be alone. She couldn’t stand to be alone.
It dawned on her that this is how Jen must’ve felt so late at night. Jen had phoned her while she was probably having sex with John. The guilt and shame were all consuming. What had she been thinking? What kind of a friend compounds the agony of a husband’s betrayal by sleeping with that same husband? Why hadn’t she at least done the right thing for just one night? Even if she was screwing John, she could have shown her commitment to her friend by being at her side.
There was no way she was going to make it through the night without help.
She opened the medicine cabinet and took out her “rescue pills” as she liked to refer to them; she swallowed two Xanors. She needed to knock herself out so that she didn’t have to think or feel; she didn’t want to face what she had done and the potential repercussions of those actions. Frankie could hear her mother’s voice echoing as drowsiness replaced anxiety: “Only you will be to blame for your downfall, Frankie. You just don’t know when to stop, do you?”
Twenty-one
Lee was furious. Furious he had allowed himself to lose control. But then again, he thought, there’s pent up anger that had to be vented. He had been cautious about having his wife followed and had hired a firm known for discretion and professionalism, and they had charged accordingly. It was easy to uncover her brief affair with the diplomat. Frankie had been reckless in London; he could only assume that she thought that the chances of them being seen together were slim. The two were captured on camera sharing intimate dinners, walking through Hyde Park hand in hand and even kissing at an outdoor concert. The love fest had ended abruptly after Lee had sent (anonymously) incriminating evidence to the diplomat’s wife, knowing full well that she would ensure the affair ended without exposing her husband or his lover. She, like Lee, would avoid a scandal at all costs – in her case, for her husband’s career. Lee had said nothing of the affair to Frankie. It was in his nature to wait for the right moment. And his gut had told him that it was not quite the right time.
His private investigator had stumbled upon Frankie’s next indiscretion – this time with his best friend. After checking that calls between the diplomat and his client’s wife had dwindled to zero, he noticed that her account was soon reflecting regular calls to and from an unfamiliar number. Thinking the diplomat may have changed numbers, the mysterious calls were traced to a Mister John Pearce. It took Lee a while to absorb the nasty possibility that Mr John Pearce was his best friend since school.
This had been problematic to prove, as their trysts, it was thought, took place within the privacy and safety of his friends’ farm’s boundaries. Most of the time, Jen was at home when Frankie visited. The question, Was Frankie really visiting her friend or was she fucking his? perplexed Lee.
Although it seemed nothing untoward was happening, Lee’s gut, as always, told him otherwise. By nature, Lee let nothing go, and he soon stumbled upon an ingenious (so he thought) way to uncover the truth, yet he still could not prove the affair and was about to give up, until now.
Lee vented his anger on his accelerator as he drove at an ungodly speed at an ungodly hour. Where to go? Where to stay? He had a few options, one being a hotel, but he hated everything about hotels. They were lonely places, especially at times like these. He picked up the phone and looked for Brig’s number. Nah, let’s not complicate things. He decided on another option. She was always awake, and she wouldn’t mind him crashing at her place at such short notice.
It rang for a time and then Patty picked up. “Lee, what’s wrong?”
“I need a place to crash. Can I come over?”
“Of course you can. You know the gate code.”
Lee pressed his foot flat on the accelerator. “Just slow down, Lee. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Lee accelerated as he turned left on to a back road that would take him into the city – a road that was desolate at this time. He thought about his so-called best friend. He was over the angst of loss and betrayal; in fact, nothing much shocked him anymore.
Jen’s mother had been right about John all along, Lee mused as he drove. Jen’s parents had had their hearts set on a union between Lee and their daughter, as did Lee’s parents. Both wine farmers in the area, they had often joked that they would be in-laws one day, “Providing my son isn’t seduced by the floozies he loves to hang around with,” Lee’s father had joked.
Unlike the rest of the girls at the time, Jen’s dad had forbidden her to socialise in town, as he knew those girls visited the pubs in the village despite being underage. She wasn’t allowed to hang around with boys unsupervised; he wanted her to remain pure and untarnished. He would not have the whole of Stellenbosch skinner about his child and inadvertently question his parenting skills. This made her a suitable candidate for marriage amongst the parents in Stellenbosch.
It was only when Jen’s father passed away that many of the rules slackened. Jen’s mom did not have the kind of resolve her husband had had. Even Jen’s choice of study would have been vetoed by him if he had lived.
It was in her last year at interior design college that Jen had met John. On paper, he was a good catch: heir to his father’s farm, vice head boy at school, graduated cum laude from agricultural college, with looks and charm in spades. But the rumours about him and his womanising did not go unnoticed by Jen’s mother, Christa.
At the same time, Lee’s parents had met his new love interest, Frankie, and although they never let on to the rest of their family and friends and the town’s gossips that they were unhappy, they had been concerned about the kind of woman Lee was considering marrying. An intervention was planned between the two families, and Lee and his parents were invited to dinner at Christa’s farm in the hope that their two children would fall deeply in love.
The three cohorts mistakenly thought that Lee and Jen were oblivious to their plan and the two young adults had had fun playing along with them. After dinner, Lee’s dad had coaxed him to take Jen to the movies. Only too happy to end the pretence, they drove away laughing at the awkward and archaic situation in which they found themselves.
Lee remembered that evening vividly. There had been no way they would have gone to a movie together, knowing this would spark all sorts of rumours around town. Instead, they had decided to drive to the highest point on Jen’s farm, park the car and smoke a joint to kill time.
Both stoned, they lay on their backs looking up at the stars. Lee rolled on to his
side, arm resting on his elbow, and they began to giggle uncontrollably.
“How awkward was that?” Jen laughed.
“I think it’s not such a bad idea, Jen,” Lee joked. “You marry me. We make our parents happy and your dad, may he rest in peace. We combine our wealth and create an empire, while we secretly shag John and Frankie.”
“Separately or together?” Jen asked, causing them to snort with laughter. It had seemed so hilarious. “Oh my God, Lee, you crack me up. Who said you couldn’t have your cake and eat it?”
“The town could do with a scandal. They thrive on this type of thing. Let’s give them something to talk about.”
Then they stopped laughing and looked at each other as if they’d never really seen one another before. As if they had synchronised their movements, they reached for one another and before they knew it, they were kissing, mouths open, tongues probing, wanting to be naked but prolonging the agony of having each other wholly by exploring the other’s body. Their mouths were still joined as their hands moved up t-shirts and pulled down pants, touching places that brought bliss and longing simultaneously. Lee didn’t remember seeing Jen naked, but he remembered vividly what she felt like and how she tasted. He could recall the absolute desire and the ecstasy of their union after the protracted teasing and the lengthy foreplay, the curious probing and the constant touching. Never again had he been able to replicate that moment of complete and utter abandon and the feeling of being absolutely satiated. Never.
He shifted gears and drove at full throttle. He remembered the heartache that had followed. He had been prepared to lose his friendship with John over Jen, he had wanted her so much. Never had he felt this way during sex and never again was he able to recapture the intensity of that night, despite his attraction to Frankie and her sexual prowess. Jen, on the other hand, had been racked with guilt. She blamed the alcohol and drugs and insisted that Lee forget it had ever happened.
Years later, Jen’s mother had asked Lee to visit her in the retirement village. Over tea, she had cried, telling him how she feared for her daughter’s happiness. She shared the story of her marriage to her unfaithful husband and how it had saddened her that history seemed to be repeating itself. She was concerned about the rumours whispered around town. Her only hope was that her daughter would have the courage, courage she had never found, to leave the marriage; but she feared that, like her, she was shackled to her husband financially. It was a long afternoon of promises and disclosures, and by the end of it, Lee had sworn he would see that Jen would be fine, no matter what situation she chose to be in, married or divorced.
