‘I’ve got to say, Eve, I’m having a really good time. You know, I’d almost given up on dating altogether – internet dating in particular. But my brother – he’s a bit of a law unto himself – hacked into my profile and found you. That’ll teach me to be a bit more imaginative with my passwords in future. Although for once in my life I find myself grateful to have a sibling devoid of any moral compass whatsoever.’
So this is their first date. That’s almost more disconcerting than if it were their tenth; because if this is how cosy they’ve become after a couple of hours together, I dread to think what may transpire by closing time.
Eve laughs. It’s the sound of tropical rain falling on the warm shallows of ocean. It’s a laugh you’d have to be mad not to want to listen to again and again.
‘To be fair, we do have quite a bit in common. Your brother did well in getting you back on the site, but I’m sure if you’d been on it yourself you’d have found me anyway.’
‘Mmm … well, I’m not sure our common professional interest is necessarily the reason my brother was so keen for me to meet you.’
Max pauses for a second, surprised possibly at the confidence of his innuendo. I’m surprised too. Max was never this smooth when I was first dating him.
‘Actually, we never really finished that conversation earlier. How exactly did you become a head teacher so young?’
She’s a head teacher? How is that even possible? She can’t be long out of sixth form herself.
‘Well, I’d been teaching for about four years and was already running the English department when my head there suggested I apply for the fast-track scheme. So I did, and I got a place.’
‘But, still, to make it to head by the time you’re thirty – that’s really impressive. Surely not everyone on that scheme has such a meteoric rise?’
She’s thirty. Older than I thought. But still younger than I’d have liked.
‘I think I just got lucky. I hadn’t expected even to apply for a headship so soon, but then this job came up at a specialist Arts and Humanities school and I realized it was such perfect territory for me that I’d be mad not to put my hat in the ring, at least. I genuinely never thought I’d get it.’
‘So how long have you been there now?’
‘This year was my first. A baptism of fire, you could say. But I’ve loved every minute of it. The kids are great and there’s a real energy about the place. I’m lucky, I know, to have landed on my feet in such a great school.’
Max smiles at Eve as though he can’t quite believe how lucky he is to have landed himself a first date with her. His smile is so open, so hopeful, so inviting that I can’t imagine anyone resisting the urge to fall into it.
Max runs his fingers through his thick, wavy hair as he’s done repeatedly with an OCD-like frequency in the past few minutes and it’s confirmation, as if I needed it, that he’s awash with nervous excitement. It’s a spontaneous tic of his and one which I’ve always loved. He’d fiddled with his hair incessantly throughout our wedding ceremony, looking to anyone who didn’t know better as if he was vainly checking that it was all still in place, rather than the simple, absent-minded quirk I knew it to be. By the time I came to put the ring on his finger, his hands were greasy with misplaced hair wax. We’d giggled, secretively, no one but us knowing what we’d suddenly found so funny: a private moment in the most public of ceremonies.
‘Yeah, the first year in senior management is tough, for sure. Mine was made that much tougher, I guess, by the fact that Rachel died so soon before I started my deputy headship. It did cross my mind that perhaps I should have postponed it a year, that I was never going to be able to invest in the role in the way that I’d have liked after what happened. But this last term has definitely felt a lot easier.’
The way he drops my name into conversation, so nonchalantly, with so little fanfare, I realize that this must not be the first time I’ve been discussed this evening. For Max to have made that comment, they must have talked about me before I arrived. Eve must already be fully appraised of my life and death and the beautiful years I had with Max before I unexpectedly left him.
The thought fills me with a violent sense of vertigo, that feeling you get when you inadvertently overhear an unflattering conversation about you that you know was meant to be private and which you wish had stayed that way. It’s compelling and destabilizing in equal measure. Except here I can only imagine what was said, how I was described, which parts of our story Max chose to share and which he declined to mention.
It’s left to my imagination, too, how Eve chose to respond. Did she listen patiently, sympathetically, demonstrating a great capacity for empathy? Or did she tolerate the very mention of my name with her eyes fixed firmly on a future in which she may choose to eliminate all references to me?
I’m snatched from my speculations by the sound of Eve’s laughter. She’s laughing at a story Max is telling and I can see that he’s basking in the attention.
‘And then the kid said, “But Sir, I’m not being funny or anything but, like, do you even know what Grime is?” I think he actually believed I thought he was talking about dirt. Really, what is it with every generation thinking they’ve reinvented the cultural wheel?’
‘Oh, come on, we were the same in our day. I remember listening to Blur and Oasis and my parents telling me it wasn’t music, it was just noise. And now I find myself thinking the same about the stuff my students listen to. It’s the inevitable generational shift – we’re all past it before we even know it.’
‘I suppose you’re right. I used to drive my mum and dad mad listening to Run-D.M.C. and the Beastie Boys at full volume, bass turned up to the max, wondering why the hell they couldn’t understand how revolutionary it was. I think we just have to hold our hands up and accept the fact that we shouldn’t be allowed to listen to contemporary music any more, let alone comment on it.’
Eve laughs again. I wish she’d stop finding Max so damn funny. It’s too dangerous. I know where laughter at Max’s jokes can lead.
It was Connor who told me that when Max confided his intention to propose to me, Connor had asked – with the incredulity of a man who was destined still to be single in his early forties – what on earth possessed him to think that one woman could be enough to satisfy a lifetime. Max had replied that one of the reasons he knew he wanted to marry me was because I laughed at all of his jokes, even the unfunny ones.
But now it’s Eve laughing at Max’s jokes, and I can see in his eyes and his smile just how much he’s enjoying entertaining someone again.
‘Maybe that’s partly why we got into teaching in the first place – to try and hold on to our youth a bit?’
‘Speak for yourself, Max. My intentions were entirely honourable.’
‘Seriously, though, what did make you want to become a teacher?’
‘Seriously? Okay. Without wanting to sound earnest – and I can talk about this till the cows come home, so feel free to stop me whenever I start boring you – I genuinely think it’s one of the most important jobs in the world. Educating the next generation, preparing them to head out into the world, ensuring that they contribute in some way to society – I can’t think of many more worthwhile things to do. Now that I’m a head I really miss that daily contact with students. They can be infuriating but I can’t imagine another job that’s quite so energizing.’
As Eve concludes her speech, I see that Max is gazing at her with something approaching reverence.
‘I couldn’t agree more. It’s just rare to hear someone articulate it so passionately. Most teachers, even after just a few years in the job, tend to succumb to the cynicism bug, however hard they might try to fight it. I think it’s great you’re still so enthusiastic.’
Eve laughs.
‘I know what you mean about the Cynical Brigade – we’ve a fair few littering the staff room at my school. I just don’t see the point of staying in a job if it doesn’t excite you any more. Life’s too short.’<
br />
Max doesn’t respond and I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. Eve, meanwhile, continues where she left off.
‘Without wanting to eulogize, I suppose for me it’s about recognizing the value in what you’re doing. Parents entrusting you all day with their children – there aren’t many greater privileges.’
Max smiles at her reflectively and it pains me to see because I know what’s behind that smile and I know what’s precipitated it. I can see the flame of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes again, the way it used to, the way it’s failed to for over a year now, and I can’t help but wish it was me who’d managed to ignite it.
‘It’s great talking to you about all of this. It’s so easy to forget why you’re doing what you’re doing, particularly when you’ve got a child at home to take care of too; being a parent definitely shifts the priorities, makes you use every minute that much more efficiently. But I’m sure you’ll probably find that out for yourself one day.’
Eve looks at Max slightly quizzically and I wonder whether he’s crossed a line, whether he’s misread the signals, whether he’s getting too personal for a first date. But it’s the lightest expressive breeze before her face restores its composure.
‘Speaking of Ellie, I can’t really imagine how you manage everything – a demanding job and a seven-year-old child. It must be incredibly hard.’
Just hearing her say my little girl’s name already feels like she’s more ensconced in our lives than I could ever be ready for.
‘It’s getting easier but I won’t deny it’s been the steepest learning curve I’ve ever climbed. It’s the level of organization required – who knew that children’s lives were so busy? Honestly, Ellie has a more vibrant social life than I do and nearly every day there’s an activity after school that requires me to remember some sort of special equipment or outfit. You need the organizational skills of a military general just to keep up. I’ll be honest – Rachel used to take care of most of that stuff and it’s only now I realize quite how impressive she was in keeping track of everything.’
I smile to myself as I think back to when Ellie first started school, an initiation that brought with it a raft of extracurricular activities and play dates. Max and I were astounded that someone so little had such stamina. He used to say it was like she’d inherited the aggregate of both our energy reserves and then some quirk of DNA had doubled it. He used to say that she’d turned out better than the best of each of us combined. And he was right.
‘It sounds like you’re doing a great job, taking charge of it all. It can’t be easy, doing the job of both parents.’
Max pauses for a second and I wonder whether he’s weighing up just how much to share, whether he’s wary of disclosing more than she’s ready to embrace, whether he’s remembering the humiliations of previous dates. I urge him, silently, to be cautious. I don’t want him getting hurt again.
‘It can be pretty tough, I’d be lying if I said otherwise. The truth is, when you live with someone, it’s not so much that you take things for granted as things just kind of slip into a routine and you each take on different responsibilities. You know what it’s like.’
Eve pauses for a second.
‘Well, I don’t actually. Not really.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I … I haven’t ever lived with anyone before.’
Eve smiles nervously as if embarrassed to admit it.
‘Oh, right. But I don’t just mean with partners. It was the same when my brother and I used to share a flat back in the day.’
‘No, I mean I haven’t lived with anyone before – not flat-shared or cohabited or anything. I’ve always lived by myself, ever since I left home.’
‘Really? God, I’d have been hopeless living alone in my early twenties. Connor and I could only just manage to pay the bills on time between us. I think I’d get pretty lonely living by myself too. Have you just never fancied sharing with anyone?’
‘It’s not that. I suppose it’s just never worked out that way. And after a while you do get used to being by yourself – I’ve no doubt it’s made me hideously intolerant of other people.’
Eve laughs, just fractionally too hard.
‘Anyway, it sounds like Ellie’s social life hasn’t suffered too much with you at the helm.’
‘No, that’s one thing I can definitely attest to. She’s incredible, really. She has her moments of insecurity, as you’d expect, but she’s amazingly resilient given what she’s been through. And she’s great fun to be with. I’m lucky to have her.’
‘It sounds like she’s pretty lucky to have you too.’
Eve gazes at Max with a look I can’t quite decipher; it’s a deep, introspective expression that seems lost inside itself. A few seconds of silence follow that seem loaded with something they’re both unable to articulate and I’m unable to interpret, before Max breaks the mutual reverie.
‘God, I’ve just realized we’re the last people here. The staff will be cursing us. I guess we ought to be making a move.’
The wall clock reveals that it’s a little after eleven. Eve slips on a beautiful pale green mac and together they wander outside, both very slightly tipsy, Max’s arm swung loosely, protectively, across the small of her back; somehow they already look every inch a couple.
‘I’ve had a fantastic time, Eve. You’ve restored my faith in internet dating.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Although I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to be back online as soon as you get home this evening.’
Her smile is playful but I can hear the undertone of insecurity in her voice. She likes him. She really likes him.
‘I’m kind of hoping I’m not going to need to. I’d really like to meet up again, if you’d like that too?’
And he likes her too. But I knew that already, before he made claim to a second date, the very moment I arrived this evening and saw the smile I know is reserved for these rare moments of alchemy.
‘I’d like that a lot. Believe me, I’ve done my fair share of internet dates and blind dates and awful set-ups with friends of friends, and evenings like this don’t come along very often.’
As Eve looks down, shyly, perhaps taken aback by her own forwardness, Max cups a hand around her cheek and gently, slowly, moves his face towards hers until they’re so close they must be able to feel the heat of one another’s breath and his fingers are grazing her hair and then their lips are touching and I’m witnessing, for the first time, my husband kiss another woman.
An intense, uncontrollable nausea swells inside me and I feel dizzy and sick and I fear I’m going to faint. I close my eyes to shut it all out, to shut them out, and I remain there, in self-imposed darkness, for what feels like an eternity of self-preservation, until I dare finally to open my eyes again, hoping they’ll be gone, hoping it will all be over, praying that I’ll be back on my own in the whiteness. But I open my eyes and they’re still there, they’re still kissing, and it’s not passionate, nor energetic, but rather soft, affectionate, gentle and somehow that’s far, far worse. It’s tender and romantic and indicative of a confidence and a desire that there will be much, much more to come.
Finally it’s over and they giggle together, conspiratorially, as if embarrassed by their own uninhibited desires. Max hails a passing cab and for a split second it occurs to me that they might get into it together, that there might yet be more horror ahead, and I know I can’t bear it.
But Eve steps in alone and the torment, for now at least, is over.
As Max waves her off and wanders away in the opposite direction, white clouds begin to gather over the dark night sky and before I’ve snatched one last look at Max’s face I find myself alone in my stark wilderness, with only the plague of recent memory for company. Just a few seconds earlier and I’d have been spared that scene. Instead I’m here momentarily too late, trying to purge that punishing image from my mind, but it assumes a life of its own, burning into the screen behind my eyes so that all I ca
n see, the only picture in the world I seem capable of painting, is the sight of Max kissing the beautiful blonde.
I implore myself to think about Max with me instead, about that last kiss we shared, about that final evening we spent together, celebrating his promotion. I remember how we’d been in the restaurant, sitting across from one another, when suddenly he’d leaned over the table, taken my face in his hands, and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I recall how unexpected it had been, how happy it had made me, how at the time it had taken my breath away. But now I can’t seem to locate any feelings attached to it. I can only remember it as if a scene from a movie, as if a memory that might as well belong to someone else. The only feelings I have right now are this evening’s, the feelings I’m desperate to eradicate, the feelings no one should ever have to bear. The feelings that come with having watched my husband in the arms of another woman.
I can’t believe that Max has done this to me. I can’t believe he’s gifted me this execrable image that I know will haunt me for days to come. And that, in doing so, he seems to have obliterated the memories I have of us being together.
Just one more kiss. That’s all I want. Just one more. To feel his lips on mine, to feel our breaths intermingle until we don’t know whose is whose any more, to know once again the intimacy that never failed to assure me that in Max’s presence I was always going to be safe and loved and desired.
Now when I close my eyes it’s not me Max is kissing. It’s Eve.
I feel as though something profound has happened this evening. Something irreversible. I feel as though a part of Max is emptying out of me, or perhaps it’s me emptying out of him.
And I feel angry, too. Angry that Max is alive and I’m not, that his life continues where mine has ended, that he’s able to go on dates and flirt with beautiful women and kiss them outside restaurants late into the evening. Angry that he gets another shot at life, at love, at success, at parenthood. Angry about the naive, presumptuous certainty I had that there was so much more of my life yet to come.
The Dead Wife's Handbook Page 13
