Drowning

by Jassy Mackenzie

  I stopped by the library, which was lined with mahogany shelves containing the most eclectic collection of books I’d ever seen. Many of them were medical books on everything from basic biology to the etymology of obscure diseases, but they stood spine to spine with works of fiction both old and new: travel writing, history books, biographies, and a whole shelf on art. The shelves were not all systematically arranged. Lung Disease in the Tropics was slotted between Autobiography of a Yogi and Jefferson’s Letters, while in the middle of a shelf of the classics, I found the Kama Sutra as well as the Story of O. I smiled when I saw he had three copies of Life of Pi. Perhaps that was one of his favorites, just as it was one of mine.

  In the end, though, all I chose was a colorfully illustrated South African recipe book. If you can’t eat sweet baked goods, you can at least read about them, I thought. This would be the literary equivalent of comfort food—a pleasant distraction from the physical pain of my hangover and the more hurtful emotional pain I felt when I thought about Vince’s words.

  Sam had emailed back and I opened her response eagerly, looking forward to getting her opinion on the situation.

  Girlfriend!! she wrote. Holy cow. I had no idea that all of this was going on. This is very, very, VERY complicated. Sheesh… you’ve been unfaithful to Vince? Wow. That is not what I ever thought would happen. You’re probably thinking I’m gonna say you’re wrong to have done it, and you should go for counseling. That if you’re going through a rough patch with Vince, you need to try and fix it. But actually, I feel the opposite way.

  I think maybe this fling was a good thing for you. You might hate me for saying this but I have to be truthful. I think Vince is a prick. I can’t stand how he treats you, and his behavior is alienating you from your friends. I promised myself I would never tell you this, but at your engagement party, I ended up alone with him in the bar for awhile, and, do you know, he was trying to come on to me?

  Anyway, this is probably too much info, and I apologize, because if you stay with him, our friendship is probably over now, but the thing is that if you stay with him, I’m never gonna see you anyway, so there’s no harm in being truthful, right? I just wish you all the best, and if you do leave him, I’m always here for you… you can call anytime, or come and stay for as long as you need to. Love you, and take care.

  I closed the email quickly, not wanting to take in what it said. Then I opened it and read it again.

  Sam thought Vince had come onto her?

  Surely not. She must have been wrong about that. Perhaps she was exaggerating what had happened, or she remembered it wrong. Vince would never have done such a thing at our engagement party, with one of my best friends… would he?

  I stared out of the window at the grey sheets of rain lashing the glass. Thunder cracked again, directly overhead, and the sound of the rain was replaced briefly by the rattling of hail. The elements were conspiring against me for sure. No work would be done on the bridge with this storm raging, and if I were especially unlucky, the sandbags shoring up the bank would be washed away.

  Great.

  I couldn’t let myself think about the conversation I’d had with Vince last night. How demeaning it had felt to be sworn at that way. Was Sam’s observation correct? Did people really think my husband treated me badly? I knew Vince had been angry—but why did he have to vent his temper that way? Maybe I should buy him a big red punching bag.

  And, once again, I felt unfairly manipulated. If he’d only left a message earlier, or even texted me, I would have known how urgent it was and would have called him back.

  Worse still, he’d been in touch with Helena. In spite of the fact that he’d obviously done so with a view to helping me, his words were troubling. He’d said “we spent the whole morning waiting for you to call back.” Had Vince meant he and the pilot? He and Helena? Did that mean Helena had, in fact, flown up to see him? And even if I hadn’t answered his call, why hadn’t he just told the helicopter pilot to fly to Leopard Rock regardless? He knew I would have been there… it wasn’t like there was anywhere else for me to go.

  His words had not only wounded me, they had crushed me. He had the ability to make me feel as if I deserved his insults, and now this was causing me to become angry and resentful.

  It was strange the effect that distance had. When we’d been living together, after similar fights, I had done everything I could to placate him and to restore the peace, and it had taken a day at most for things to get back to normal.

  Now, without the constant demands of his presence, there was time for me to see the situation in a new perspective—to gain some distance from the effect that his moods and his criticisms invariably had on me. The problem was that I did not want the distance. It felt unsafe to have to think about Vince in this way. I longed suddenly to be back together with him. When we were together, the fights had not seemed to matter. I’d never felt anger or resentment. Vicious as they were, when we were in proximity to each other, it had been a whole lot easier to make up.

  I wished I could go back to feeling the way I had done in the past. That I was incredibly lucky to have married this man—this renowned photographer, who had received international acclaim for his work, who had become wealthy through his own perseverance and talent, and who, of all the women in the world he could have chosen, had married me.

  I turned on my phone, intending to phone Vince and apologize for hanging up on him, but when I called him, it rang and rang before going through to voicemail.

  With a sinking heart I realized he was still angry with me.

  I read Sam’s email once more and then deleted it. She had been right when she’d said it was too much info. Her words, in harsh black and white, were so troubling to me that I was not able to respond to them—not even with a thank you.

  By the time I’d filled in the insurance form and made some phone calls to find out more about the car’s condition, the rain had eased up. In my stash of clothing, I found a large waterproof jacket with a hood. It would do for now. I was going to walk down to the river and see exactly what the situation was with the bridge—and, this time, I was going to take my phone with me and keep it turned on.

  Putting it carefully in the Velcro pocket of the jacket, I set off.

  I’d thought the distance to be a couple of miles, but even though it was mostly downhill, it was also somewhat longer. It took me more than an hour of plowing through muddy sandbanks and splashing across puddles. By the time I reached it, I was limping on at least one blister from my ill-fitting shoes, and the sight that greeted me was not what I had hoped for.

  The water had torn a gaping hole in the carefully sandbagged bank. The river was in full flood again, the waters murky and grey, fast-moving and dangerous looking. There was not a soul in sight, although a tarpaulin nearby, weighed down with rocks, presumably covered some of the tools and equipment that would be used when, and if, the damned river ever stopped overflowing its banks.

  The only ray of hope was that two long steel girders had been placed over the sandbags, stretching all the way across the river to the other side. They were still in position. So hopefully, if the sandbags could be shored up again, building might be able to start tomorrow. It didn’t have to be a proper road. Even a small walkway would do for me, for now.

  The swishing of tires behind me made me look round, and with a sinking of my heart I saw Nicholas at the wheel of his Land Cruiser.

  He climbed out and gave me the barest nod of greeting. His face looked as hard as I’d ever seen it, and I wondered what had happened to make him angry.

  Could it have been because I broke my promise to him by not coming back to his bedroom last night?

  Well, if it was—if he was petty enough to get in a mood over that—let him stew in his own ill-temper, I thought, with a flash of defiance. I had my own bigger problems to deal with, far more important and far-reaching than the sulkiness of a womanizer who for once had not gotten his way.

  I turned my back to him and
stared out at the rushing water. At least the walk and the fresh air had cleared my head and banished the hangover.

  “They’re not going to be able to fix the bridge until a dam wall further upriver has been repaired,” Nicholas said behind me. “It burst in the first rains, which is why it keeps flooding now. They’re going to be working on the wall later, weather permitting.”

  I didn’t turn around and nor did I acknowledge him.

  Then, from my pocket, I heard the ringing of my phone.

  Hastily, I splashed my way through a large puddle, heading further down the hill away from him. The sound of the water was very loud here. Vince was calling, and it was time to mend my bridges… figuratively, at least.

  “Vince, honey,” I said. “Hi. I’m sorry about last night. How’re you doing?”

  “Not good.” His voice was tight and sharp.

  “I’m really sorry for hanging up on you,” I said. “And it was thoughtless of me not to take the phone with me yesterday. I should have known it was important. I’m so sorry.”

  “Where are you?” he asked. “Are you in the shower?”

  “I’m down here at the river. Some of the sandbags they put in yesterday have been washed away. It’s going to take another two or three days to get this bridge repaired, but as soon as they do, I’m coming over it.” I laughed, even though it felt forced. “I’m going to walk over on foot, if necessary, to be with you again.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he said, and the words as well as his tone made my stomach clench.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Erin, I can’t deal with this anymore. You are not the girl I married. What has happened to you? You used to be so devoted. You were so caring. And now, you’ve changed. Or rather, I don’t know if you’ve changed, or whether this is the real you and everything I knew before has been a lie.”

  “Vince!” Aware that Nicholas was still behind me, I hastily lowered my voice again. “I’ve always been the same person. I’ve just been under a lot of stress the past few days, and I know you have, too.”

  “No.” His voice was cold. “It started before that. You’ve been showing me your real side for a while now. Flirting with other men deliberately. You wouldn’t have been washed away in that car if you’d chosen to drive with me.”

  “Vince, are you insane?” Again, I was aware I’d raised my voice, and had to struggle to control myself. “You told me to get into the other car. You said you didn’t want to drive with me.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. But what I find strange is that you didn’t fight for it. You agreed immediately. It was almost as if you wanted to go into that other car, to be alone with that young driver. I saw the way he was looking at you. How do I know you haven’t been with him this whole time?”

  “Bulewi’s not even here! He managed to escape to the other side of the river. And you’re not to talk badly of him after he tried to save me. If he hadn’t undone my seatbelt, I would have died.”

  I’d hoped my honesty would shame Vince into silence, but it was as if he hadn’t even listened to my outburst.

  If you loved me, you would have insisted on coming with me. It was a test, Erin, and you failed it.”

  “But…”

  “And why did you end up lagging so far behind me? Was that also deliberate?”

  “No! It was not. The storm was terrible, and you were driving like a…”

  “I think we need a trial separation, Erin.”

  “No,” I said again, whispering out the words through cold lips.

  “I’m booked to fly back to New York on Friday and I’m taking that flight. I’m not waiting around here for days or weeks for some mythical bridge to be repaired.”

  “It was not a mythical bridge!” I insisted. “It was a real one, and I’m standing where it was right now. You didn’t even bother to come here to see. I would have thought you’d have been camped out in a tent on the other side, waiting for me to be able to cross over. Instead, you’re holed up in five-star comfort.”

  “Shut up! You’ve milked this situation already for all it’s worth,” he yelled angrily. “If you were really stuck, you would have phoned me back yesterday so I could come and get you. If you don’t fly back with me, I’m going to pack up your belongings so that when you do choose to come back to the States, you can move out and look for somewhere else to stay.”

  “Vince, no!” I could hear the panic in my voice.

  “This is your decision. Not mine. You’re the one who made this all go wrong.”

  “If I could swim across this damned river right now, I would!”

  “You had the chance to come back to me yesterday,” he said heavily. “You didn’t take it.”

  “Look, why don’t you charter a helicopter from your side and come get me?”

  “Like I said, I’m flying back when we’re booked to leave. And now, I have work to do. I had to cancel shooting yesterday, so I’m going into the bush now. My guide’s waiting outside. Don’t try to contact me today because I won’t be available.”

  He disconnected without saying another word.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Shit!” I said loudly.

  I turned off my phone to conserve what remaining battery I had, moved away from the river and, without acknowledging Nicholas, headed up the steep bank and marched past the place where his car was parked.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer, just kept walking, but a minute later, the throbbing of the truck’s engine behind me told me that my intent to stomp off back to the lodge alone was going to be thwarted.

  “Get in,” he called through the open window.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Erin, get in. You’ve walked the whole way down here in the wet in those ill-fitting shoes, and if you haven’t blisters already, you soon shall.” He leaned over, opened the door. “Come on.”

  I trudged over to the car, climbed in, slammed the door.

  “Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

  I turned on him furiously. “At this moment, I do not need your comments, which in any case are not funny. My husband has just told me that he thinks we need a trial separation.” I was crying now, my shoulders shaking, tears flooding my eyes.

  Nicholas stopped the car in the shade by the muddy roadside, and cut the engine. He waited for a minute until I’d regained some control over my emotions, before asking, “Why does he want that?”

  “He had a helicopter ready to bring me out yesterday.” My face was burning with shame. “The pilot was waiting to fly here. But because I didn’t have my phone with me, he couldn’t.”

  Blinking tears away, I saw Nicholas regarding me, his face still hard.

  “Why the trial separation? I’m confused, Erin. You didn’t have your phone with you. So what? Did you know he was going to try and get a helicopter to you?”

  I sniffed. “I had no idea.”

  “So you had no idea your husband was trying to organize you a helicopter. But the pilot could have flown here regardless. Everyone in the area knows the coordinates for Leopard Rock.”

  I shrugged.

  “So because you didn’t have your phone with you when he suddenly decided to try and rescue you, and he didn’t tell the pilot to come here anyway, he now thinks you should have a trial separation?”

  I gave a shaky laugh. When Nicholas put it that way it did, of course, sound stupid.

  “It’s not just that,” I told him.

  “Well, what else has changed? What’s gone so suddenly wrong between yesterday and today?”

  Another question I couldn’t answer.

  “You don’t understand the situation,” I said.

  “Well, clearly I don’t. But if that’s all that has happened then there’s no cause to be so upset.” He drew in a breath as if he was going to say something else to me, but then shook his head. Instead, he started the car and headed up the road.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing
.”

  “You were going to say something.”

  “I was going to tell you why I was so angry earlier. But now I’m not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think that what I was going to say will make a difference to what you have decided to believe.”

  “Oh.” I considered his words for a short while. Did his anger have something to do with Vince? It certainly sounded like it.

  Nicholas drew a deep breath. “You want me to be honest?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, please don’t go off like a rocket when I tell you your husband’s an asshole. He’s trying to manipulate you emotionally. He doesn’t want a trial separation. He’ll never leave you—he’s got you exactly where he wants you. And now he’s messing with your mind to make sure you stay there.”

  “He wouldn’t do that. He loves me. And I love him.”

  I spoke loudly, aware that the words sounded hollow and that given my recent behavior, there was no reason for Nicholas to believe them. He didn’t shoot my statement down in flames though, as I had feared he might.

  Instead, he countered, “The word love is open to interpretation. And to abuse.”

  “You can’t say that. You don’t know him.”

  “I don’t have to know him to have an opinion on him,” Nicholas retorted, and the anger was back in his voice again.

  “I don’t have to listen to your opinion. Hey, where are we going?” I asked, as Nicholas turned off the main driveway and onto the track we had taken the day before.

  “I’m going for a drive.”

  “But I…”

  “You don’t want to go?”