I sighed. ‘It was just easier. So I waited the two weeks, thinking that without me there to cook and clean and run round after him he would be gagging to get me back. Unfortunately I missed the one small flaw in my plan.’
‘That he already had someone else to run round after him?’
‘Exactly. So I was at Mum and Dad’s and the first Sunday morning we were all in the garden reading the papers and there they were in the social pages.’
‘Jake and Tash?’
‘Yep. In fairness, they actually mentioned that Tash was Jake’s wife’s cousin. So I wasn’t suspicious at that point – just hurt that he seemed to be having a good time without me. All right – and a little jealous that he had been with her, even if it was just for the photograph. After I had recovered from my initial shock, I managed to convince myself it was a coincidence they had been at the same social event. I tried to ring him but he didn’t pick up that day, or the next, or the next. If it weren’t for the fact that he kept turning up in the paper I would have believed something terrible had happened to him. Finally the two weeks were up, and it was my birthday and I decided I was going home.’
I stopped and looked at Matt, the pain of my betrayal and abandonment still raw after all this time. I took a deep breath and continued, determined not to cry about this ever again. ‘The problem was that it didn’t really feel like my home when I got there. Any articles that had been mine had been removed and Jake’s stuff had been spread out further to cover the gaps.’
‘All of them?’ Matt sounded outraged. It was really nice.
‘I hadn’t had that much stuff anyway, cause Jake and I don’t really have the same taste, but my vases, my throw rug and even my photos, all gone. I found them all stuffed into boxes in the spare bedroom. The prick had started to pack up my things.’
‘What did you do?’ Matt asked.
‘I rang Mum and Dad, and my three best friends, Elaine whom I think you met, Dinah and Nat. I waited for them to arrive and then we started to pack. I figured he’d come home and find me totally gone and realise how stupid he’d been. As I said, I was pretty naive.’
‘So when did you realise he already had someone else?’
‘While Mum and I were packing up my clothes; it was so cliché. We found a leopard print teddy with matching G-string stuffed into my top drawer. Once I started to look, I found other signs as well. An extra toothbrush in the bathroom, two wine glasses left on the sink to drain and a pair of shoes kicked off by the front door that weren’t mine.’
‘Not your style?’
‘I would have broken my neck if I’d tried to wear them. That was if I could have fitted into them.’
‘Please tell me you did something really good,’ he almost begged.
‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?’ I asked him.
‘Yeah. Tell me you did something, anything in retaliation.’
‘I had my petty revenge.’
‘I’m all ears,’ he said, smiling broadly.
‘I cut the straps off the teddy and slashed some holes in the front of the material. Mum was a bit shocked at first, but then she said “Hang on. I’ll get the G-string.” And I knew it was all systems go. Dad stood watch at the front door while the girls, Mum and I wreaked subtle havoc. I didn’t want what we were doing to be too obvious. I was hoping they would be discovering things for weeks.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Apart from the teddy, I scrubbed both the toothbrushes around the toilet bowl. I found a bottle of lubrication in the top bathroom drawer and tried to put super glue in it, but Mum stopped me.’
‘Why?’
‘She didn’t think it would work. So she suggested we punch holes in the condoms she had found. I mean we all know how much Jake wants to be a Daddy.’
‘Remind me not to get on the wrong side of your mother.’
I laughed, ‘Yeah – the only thing worse than a scorned woman is the scorned woman’s mother.’
‘I’ll try to remember that.’
‘We did silly stuff. We short sheeted the bed – I cut an arm off his expensive Armani jacket and turned off the fridge at the wall. We found a bottle of Moet in the wine fridge and drank it, keeping the foil and cork so we could refill it. Dinah had wanted to fill it with urine but we couldn’t find a funnel, so Dad was the only one who could do it, and he refused.’ I started laughing thinking about it. ‘You should have seen Mum trying to convince Dad to spend the afternoon pissing into the Moet bottle. It was priceless.’
Matt was laughing as well. ‘I would have done it. It would have been a great pleasure.’
‘In the end we used soda water. Nat shaved the cork down so we could get it back in the bottle. And we reassembled it and put it back in the fridge. Then I placed all his work shirts in the washing machine to soak with some clothes dye I had left over from a tie dying experiment. We packed up as much as we could into all the cars, and Dad had the foresight to bring his big trailer, so I got some of the furniture, and we left. I broke my key off in the front door on the way out, and that was that. I never went back.’
‘What did he say when he got home?’
‘I don’t know. I never spoke to him again.’
He looked amazed.
‘I know. Weird isn’t it? But he never called, and I never called him and then one day a year later I look in the paper and see that he’s engaged to my cousin and running for Lord Mayor. Then the divorce papers turned up and it was all over.’
‘So you haven’t spoken to him since you went to stay at your parents,’ he asked in amazement.
‘Nope.’
‘He’s such a coward. How could he just let a marriage end like that?’
‘I know, I was angry at first. I mean shit – you think he’d have the decency to at least make it official. But as time went on I think I preferred it that way: It was hard enough always having to see him in the social pages. Anyway, I am sure he would have managed to turn it around somehow to be my fault, and frankly, I don’t think I would have been able to handle that. Anyway, that’s it. The end. Kaput. Sayonara.’
Matt jumped up to go to the toilet leaving me sitting on the bed thinking about the unspoken part of the story. The part of the story where I thought I had been going mad with grief; when I thought I would never get over it.
That first night I had dreamt of his touch on my skin, of lying sheltered in his arms. When I woke, I had hovered in the eye of the storm for the briefest of moments, before the reality of his betrayal came crashing down. I had rocked rhythmically for hours, my head in my hands, trying to block out the memories. Emotional and physical pain had crashed into each other, rolling over me, threatening to drown me. Finally, I disappeared inside myself looking for a place to hide. Deeper, still deeper until I was a little core in my empty shell, where the agony was muted and breathing suddenly possible. And then I had heard it. My heart; still pumping so quietly, so softly, so sadly inside me, and I grasped onto its rhythmical beating, counting desperately, in my attempt to stay sane.
With time, it had become easier to pretend that I was fine, to function in a semi-normal manner. To smile; even though it didn’t reach my eyes. To laugh; even though it didn’t touch my heart. But I found myself continuously wondering. What could I have done differently? Why wasn’t I enough? And self-doubt had become a shadow, following my footsteps and shaping my decisions.
I was brought out of my reverie by Matt emerging from the bathroom.
‘It’s not the end,’ Matt said shaking his head, ‘it’s a new beginning.’
‘A new beginning and a lucky escape,’ I said, relieved to find that I actually meant it.
‘Are you ready to go sightseeing?’ Matt asked, looking at his watch.
‘Yep.’ I jumped to my feet. ‘Feeling much better thanks. That egg roll was to die for.’
‘It’s so nice to meet a woman who enjoys her food.’
I shot a look at him to see exactly how he meant that comment. Was he staring at
my ass as he said it?
‘No offence meant,’ he said, correctly interpreting my look and holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. ‘You are definitely not fat. What I mean is that too many women you meet are so concerned about their waistlines that they don’t eat enough. They look like scrawny little string beans – like your cousin Tash. She looks like she’s just escaped from a prisoner of war camp.’
I laughed, wondering if he really meant it. I had always felt enormous next to her. I was having trouble fathoming that any male would think she was too thin.
‘No seriously,’ he continued, ‘so many times I’ve gone on a dinner date only to have my date eat hardly anything. They spend the whole time moving their food around the plate rather than eating it. Am I meant to be impressed by their will power? I’m never sure. All I know is it’s such a waste. Food was meant to be eaten and enjoyed, and it’s nice to be with a woman who appreciates good food.’
‘I’ve always been a little too fond of food,’ I admitted, picking up my hat and bum bag and getting ready to leave the room.
‘Nonsense, you look fantastic,’ he said as he opened the door and gestured me through ahead of him.
I felt my head puff up a little with his compliment. ‘If you keep that up my hat won’t fit on my head anymore,’ I told him.
Laughing he said, ‘Well it’s India. I’m sure we’ll be able to buy you a new one that will fit. And if not, we can always get one made.’
* * *
‘Have you ever been in a tuk tuk?’ Matt asked five minutes later.
‘Can’t say I have.’
‘It’s hot and smelly, but really the only way to go sightseeing. You get a much better feel for the place roaring around in the back of a tuk tuk than in an air-conditioned car.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I said dubiously, eyeing our mode of transport.
It was a motorbike with a box on wheels attached to it. It had open sides, which while good for letting the breeze through had me checking on the whereabouts of my bum bag.
‘Good idea,’ Matt said, as he saw me repositioning it to my front.
I slid into one side of the back and Matt jumped in the other, and then we were off. I let out a squeal of surprise. I hadn’t expected it to be quite so fast.
‘They have good acceleration, but the top speed isn’t so hot,’ said Matt, grinning at the look on my face.
I clutched the side with one hand, and sent up a silent prayer for our safety. ‘Where are we going?’ I yelled over the traffic noise.
‘I thought we’d go and see the Red Fort and Humaryun’s Tomb. Then tomorrow we can see the Lotus Temple and The Lodi Garden and visit some markets. The night markets around the corner from where we are staying are meant to be excellent.’
I clutched tightly onto the side of the tuk tuk and watched Delhi whiz by.
‘Part of the negotiations on the tuk tuk involved us having to go to an emporium,’ Matt said.
‘What’s an emporium?’ I asked.
‘It’s a collection of shops showcasing products made in India. Pashminas, silk rugs, tapestries, wooden artefacts – those sorts of things. You don’t have to buy anything, but if you do the driver gets a cut.’
‘I can see why he would want us to go there.’
Feeling braver, I let go of the tuk tuk long enough to pull out my Lonely Planet and flick to the section on the Red Fort.
‘Look I hope it’s not going to be too boring for you,’ Matt said, ‘but I’m going to have to spend a portion of each day writing.’
‘I’m just happy to be travelling,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll read, or write postcards, or I’ll sleep. I’m very good at sleeping.’
The Red Fort was a huge sprawling red building surrounded by an impressively long wall. It was hard to concentrate on the sightseeing with the hawkers hassling us continuously to buy things. Matt, obviously used to this behaviour seemed oblivious, but I was filled with guilt watching their smiling faces turn sad when I rejected them. I finally caved and bought a whole series of postcards from a little boy at the front gate. I had never really been a postcard writer. I mean apart from my trip to New Zealand I hadn’t really been anywhere postcard worthy. Now however, I found the thought of relaxing in the evenings, sipping Marsala tea and writing postcards to be an appealing idea.
We stopped at the emporium on the way to Humaryun’s tomb, wandering though aisles of soft silks and pashminas, rows of exquisitely carved wooden animals inlaid with semiprecious stones, and room after room of lush, silk rugs – all of them well out of my price range.
‘Four thousand dollars,’ I gasped to Matt, after having converted the asking price for a small silk rug to Australian dollars.
‘This place is really expensive,’ he said, ‘tomorrow we’ll find a cheaper one.’
To get to Humaryun’s Tomb we walked through a manicured garden full of canoodling, Indian couples. The ladies – carefully coiffured in brightly coloured silks – looked like exotic birds amongst the foliage.
‘Oh excuse me,’ I said as I rounded a corner and ran into a couple in the middle of a particularly arduous cuddle. She smiled shyly – her kohl lined eyes standing out like beautiful jewels, and ducked her blushing face behind her beau. I could hear Matt chuckling and shot him a venomous look.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised, ‘but that was really funny.’
Finally, we reached the tombs and stopped to admire them from afar. They were obviously shadows of their former glory, but I found a rugged beauty in their decaying surfaces.
‘The Lonely Planet said that elements of the design of this building were refined over the years to eventually create the magnificence of Agra’s Taj Mahal,’ I informed Matt, who was busy taking photos. ‘A squat building with high arched entrances, topped by a bulbous dome,’ I read as we moved to a better position for his camera.
‘They must have been spectacular when they were new,’ he answered, looking at the position of the sun in relation to the tombs.
The exposed stonework was wondrous in its variety of colours and shapes, but if you looked closely, you could see the remnants of what used to cover the stonework; patches of shiny, peacock brilliant blues and greens.
‘It must have been magnificent,’ I agreed.
Moving closer to the building, the fine detail became evident. Carved writing cascaded over the arches of the doorways and wound around the windows. We wandered through the buildings taking photos and admiring the changing colours of the stones in the setting sun.
‘I like this much better than The Red Fort,’ I said to Matt.
‘It was kind of hectic wasn’t it, this is much more peaceful.’
Later that evening, after we had eaten, we sat in our room and wrote. Matt downloaded photos, and tapped away at his laptop while I started to compose what I like to think of as ‘The Indian Postcard Collection’.
Dear Dinah and Gloria,
I hope Bad Bunny is behaving himself and not shagging too many of your fluffy toys. This morning we arrived in Delhi. And when I say we, I don’t mean Jessie and I. I mean Matt, my one-nightstand guy, and I. Stop squealing – I can hear you all the way over here. Today we went to The Red Fort, impressively massive but slightly boring, and Humaryan’s Tomb, which was awe inspiring. Believe it or not I’ve only just realised that…. (to be cont. on Nat’s postcard.)
Dear Nat and Ricardo,
(Cont. from Dinah and Gloria’s card). ……I will be going to see the Taj Mahal. I know sometimes I’m a bit of a thicky, but when Matt said we would be going to Agra I just thought it was another town, NOT the home of the Taj Mahal. I always thought that it was in Mumbai, didn’t you? Who would think it was a 2-hour plane ride, and then a 2-hour train ride from Mumbai. Hmm that was confusing. It’s two hours to Delhi by plane from Mumbai and then 2 hours by train to…… (to be cont. on Elaine’s card.)
Dear Elaine,
(Cont. from Nat and Ricardo’s card) ….Agra from Delhi. Tomorrow we are seei
ng another temple and a garden and will be doing some shopping. Apparently the night markets near where we are staying are fantastic. Hey Elaine just in case you haven’t read Dinah and Gloria’s card yet, Guess what? I’m travelling India with my yummy one nightstand guy. Who would have seen that coming? That dart thing really worked! Hope you are all well and that your Doctor is being a good boy, or a bad boy, whichever you prefer. Love you, miss you, and wish you were all here. Xxxxx
I made sure I hid these postcards in my bag before I started on the one to Mum and Dad.
Dear Mum and Dad,
Well, as I said in my email I have decided to travel up through Rajasthan rather than come home. One of Jessie’s good friends, who is a likeable and very polite sort of fellow, has offered to take me travelling with him while he writes an article for ‘Travel Abroad’. We arrived in Delhi today and did some sightseeing. Tomorrow we will be doing some more things in Delhi, I am hoping to buy something nice to remember my time here. Then on Monday we are off to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I’m really excited about that. We will be catching a train, which Matt informs me is quite an experience in itself. Love you both. Xxxx
Matt was still typing rapidly, so rather than disturb him by using the phone I snuck down to the front desk and asked them to send up a couple of Marsala teas. They told me it would be about twenty minutes as they had a high level of room service orders, so I had a shower and washed my hair while I waited.
‘Likeable and very polite sort of fellow?’ Matt asked me as I exited the bathroom.
‘Hey, no peeking,’ I said, grabbing the card from him. I took the other cards out of my bag and placed a rubber band around the bundle – making sure the card for Mum and Dad was on top.
Shit, I thought. Thank God I hid the others. I’d have to be more careful in the future.
‘Sorry,’ he said laughing. ‘I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never been described like that before.’
Clutching my confidence around me I said, ‘Well, I couldn’t very well tell her that you were an extremely gorgeous and yummy bachelor whom I once shagged in Sydney now could I? She’d have been on the next plane over.’
The Seven Steps to Closure Page 21
