Coming Clean
Page 31
I danced with the bar mitzvah boy, my dad and Phil, but not Greg.
“Why don’t you and Greg have a dance?” my mum nagged. “Go on. Do it for me and your dad. He looks so handsome.”
There was no getting away from it. Greg did look handsome. He was wearing the Armani suit we’d bought him with some of the money his grandmother had left him. At one point, Gail threatened to drag the pair of us onto the dance floor. I had to beg her not to.
• • •
Greg dropped us home just after midnight. Ben had fallen asleep in the car, so he carried him inside and up to bed.
“Right, I guess I should be getting back,” he said after the kids were tucked up.
“Sure. I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what?”
“The way it’s all turned out.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
I headed up to bed. I’d just gotten into my pj’s when I found myself standing next to Greg’s dresser. I opened the drawer. Inside was his Dunder Mifflin T-shirt that I’d found down the back of the sofa and hadn’t been able to part with. I sat on the bed and smelled it, but it didn’t smell of Greg. It still smelled of pepperoni pizza.
Couples’ Therapy—Session 3
“Before we start,” Virginia says, turning to me, “I’d just like to check that you have no pubic hairs about your person.”
My face turns scarlet. “Absolutely—I mean, apart from the ones that are actually attached to my person.”
“Good, because even now I’m still finding the odd one in the rug.”
“I’m very sorry about that. My behavior was disgraceful and, under the circumstances, I’m very grateful that you’ve agreed to see us again.”
Virginia smiles. She actually seems glad to see us back. My guess is she wants to have another crack at “saving” us.
She straightens her skirt and crosses her legs. Our cue to begin. “So …”
“Well, it’s like I explained on the phone,” I say. “Greg wants us to get back together. At first I was adamant that it would be the wrong thing and now I’m not sure. I’m really confused.”
Virginia gives me one of her nods and asks us to fill her in on what’s been going on since she last saw us.
“So,” she says when we’ve finished. “Both of you had affairs that didn’t work out and now you seem to be saying that you’ve rediscovered feelings for each other.”
“Definitely,” Greg says.
“No, not definitely. OK, yes, I do have feelings for Greg, but I’m also still angry with him about the way he behaved. He keeps telling me he’s changed, but I don’t trust him. I can’t let go of the past.”
Greg explains how, in matters domestic, Roz helped show him the light. “I’m not the same person now.” He outlines his new domestic skills and explains that he has learned to exercise them without being asked. “And I’ve got all these plans for the house. I thought we could put in a new kitchen and bathroom. Redecorate throughout. Chuck out all our old furniture. Have the garden landscaped.”
“But I’ve been begging you to do these things for years!”
“I know. And I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”
“I accept that with my pay raise we could afford to do everything now, but what worries me is that you’re all talk and you won’t follow through. I can’t bear the thought of us ending back at square one.”
He opens his shoulder bag and pulls out a wad of glossy kitchen and bathroom brochures. “I’ve got loads more at home. I’ve done masses of research on masticating toilets.”
Just hearing Greg say the words “masticating toilet” makes me laugh.
“Please give me a chance. I’m begging you.”
I can feel Virginia looking at me. “What is it, Sophie?”
“OK … this isn’t easy. When I was with Huck, the sex was amazing.”
Greg winces.
“Now that I’ve experienced that, I don’t want to go back to what Greg and I had—a sexless marriage.”
“You know, you and Greg were never truly sexually dysfunctional. What got in the way was all the anger and resentment you felt towards each other. But you said yourselves that it wasn’t always like that. Do you remember telling me how when you first got together you would make love for the entire weekend? Then there was the time you made love in the sand dunes in Spain. I’m sure you remember that.”
Our blushes tell her we did.
“You had such a wonderful beginning. You can take strength from that and move forward.”
I look at Virginia Pruitt. “You’re telling me I should give him a chance, aren’t you?”
“That has to be your decision. All I will say is that sometimes it’s necessary to take a leap of faith.”
“But I’m still so angry.”
“Fair enough and nobody is suggesting that Greg moves back home immediately. Take it slowly. Go on dates—exactly as I suggested when you first came to see me. Get to know each other again.”
“What do we tell the children?”
“Tell them the truth. They’ll understand. Children only get anxious when they sense that the truth is being kept from them.”
“And if it doesn’t work out?”
“They’ll understand that, too.”
“But they’ve been through so much.”
“You’re right. They have, but like I said, this involves a leap of faith.”
Greg reaches out and takes my hand. “Soph, please will you take that leap with me?”
• • •
Greg drives me home. We don’t say too much during the journey. My head’s too full. I still can’t decide what to do.
As we pull up outside the house, I notice two empty Dumpsters.
“God, next door must be doing building work again. More noise.”
“They’re not for next door.”
“How do you know?”
“I ordered them this morning.”
“What? Why on earth would you do that?”
“I thought that maybe I could come over next weekend and you, me and the kids could have a massive chuck out.”
I sit looking at him. “You mean that? We’d do it together?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be fun.”
“When I used to say that, you ignored me.”
“I know. I was an idiot. But I’m trying to make up for it. Turn around and take a look at the backseat.” I look. There are mixer taps, showerheads, door handles and samples of carpet and hardwood flooring.
“Good God.”
“Now come and take a look in the trunk. I’ve got something amazing to show you.”
We get out. I notice that whatever is in the trunk is so large that the lid won’t close. It’s secured with rope. Greg unties it and the lid springs up. I find myself staring at a toilet. A white porcelain toilet.
“Greg. You got me a toilet. And it’s not even our wedding anniversary.”
“Yes, but this is no ordinary toilet.” He hauls it out of the trunk and stands it on the pavement. “It has the most advanced flushing system in the world. It can flush two pounds of carrots, eighteen large hot dogs, twenty golf balls and three pounds of large gummy bears.”
“What? All at once?”
“No, of course not all at once.”
“Even so, I’m impressed.”
“You know how you were always nagging me about blocking the loo? Well, this toilet means that I’ll never block it again. Don’t say I never buy you presents.”
I stand there shaking my head. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”
“Absolutely.” Before I know it, he’s pulling me towards him and kissing me. I feel myself kissing back.
“Say you’ll do it,” he says. “Take that leap with me?”
“OK.”
He hugs me so tight that I can’t breathe. “I will make this work. I promise.”
“You’d better.”
“And the first thing I’m going to do is have another go at finding a buyer for the t
ank.”
“I dunno … Maybe we should reconsider. I mean, a man is entitled to some fun.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, but doing up the house has to be your first commitment. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just don’t let me down.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“OK,” I say. “That’s not the only promise I need from you.”
“OK, what else?”
“First we adopt a dog for the kids. Ben was devastated when he realized he wasn’t going to see Dworkin again.”
“OK, but who’s going to walk it and look after it during the day?”
“We’ll get a dog sitter and you and I will have to share the evening walks.”
“Deal.”
“And can we also make sure the kids get that hot air balloon trip you promised at Christmas?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. And soon as we’ve finished renovating the house, I want us to rehire Mrs. Fredericks.”
“Agreed.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m not having us spend out all this money on doing up the house just to have the place turn into a dump again.”
I’m taken aback.
He says he’d best be going. “OK, see you Saturday bright and early.”
I tell him the kids and I will be waiting.
He gets into the car and drives off, leaving me standing on the pavement, staring at the toilet.
Sue Margolis was a radio reporter for fifteen years before turning to novel writing. She lives in England with her husband.
CONNECT ONLINE
www.suemargolis.com
facebook.com/suemargolis.books