by Izzy Bayliss
“So, Lily, any word from Marc?” Clara turned to me when she had finished spilling the beans about Tom’s confidential work.
I knew we’d have to address the elephant in the room sooner or later.
“Ermm . . . no actually, not a word,” I said quietly.
Dad reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it tightly inside his own.
“I presume you’re still trying to make contact with him?” she continued.
“Of course, I’m ringing him every day - he’s even avoiding his own parents right now though.”
“Oh dear. It’s not looking good then is it? I was just saying to Tom before you came in the door that it’s all very odd isn’t it, Lily? I mean you must have seen it coming? You must have seen some signs?”
“I didn’t honestly, Clara, it’s been as big a shock for me, as anyone,” I said quietly.
“Yes well being separated after only a few months of marriage is pretty shocking alright. It really doesn’t bear thinking about - being separated before you are even thirty-five years of age. It’s not really something to be proud of now, is it?”
There she was again, twisting the knife in a little deeper.
“Now, Clara, go easy –” Tom went to speak but before he could finish, Clara had cut him off; she always had to have the last word.
“Jacob would you play the piece you learnt this week please?”
And we all sat brooding in angry silence while Jacob played his piece note-perfectly.
“Good boy, Jacob!” Clara declared when he was finished while we all clapped exaggeratedly. “Of course you will need to practice the second movement again but a good effort all in all.”
Clara was like Simon Cowell on the X-factor. Poor Jacob, how I wished she could just say well done and leave it at that instead of always pushing him for more.
When we could finally go, Dad dropped me home.
“So how are you doing, pet?” he asked kindly as we drove along from the leafy streets of Ballsbridge where Clara lived to the backs of beyond of Ballyrobin.
“I’m okay, Dad, good days and bad days.”
“Of course – it’s all still very fresh.”
“Why did he do this, Dad?”
“Well it’s beyond me, because you’re such a beautiful, intelligent woman and I think he was very lucky to have you.”
“You would say that!”
“I’m very proud of you, Lily, you know that.”
“I wish Marc thought the same way,” I sighed wearily.
“Well more fool him if doesn’t realise how special you are!” He was uncharacteristically sharp.
“Do you think it’s my fault, Dad? Maybe if . . . I don’t know, if I had done things differently – looked different – I don’t know maybe, lost some weight?”
“Will you stop that nonsense talk, aren’t you the most beautiful young woman?”
“But Clara always says –”
“Don’t mind your sister. You know what she’s like. She doesn’t mean to be so . . . well –” he paused for the right word, “thoughtless.”
“Well tact and Clara were never very friendly.”
He flashed me a smile and reached across the gearstick with his left hand and put it over mine.
“I know it hurts now, Lily and to be honest none of us know what way it’s going to pan out, but keep your chin up. Keep that head of yours held high do you hear me? No man is worth your tears, Lily. I’m one myself so I should know.” He smiled at me.
“I love him so much, Dad – I would do anything for him. I just don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” My voice started to quiver.
“You will, my dear, and this might be a hard thing to hear right now but I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.”
I knew he meant well, but I really hoped he was wrong on this one.
Chapter 9
It had been almost four weeks since Marc had left. Four weeks since I had found him in bed with that woman, and four weeks since I had last seen or heard from him. It had finally sunk in that he wasn’t coming back. I had stopped trying to get hold of him. It was hard to believe that he didn’t want to talk to me, but he had changed his number, blocked me on Facebook and avoided the many attempts that I had made to contact him in work, so I was finally getting the message. I went through the motions every day – I got up and went to work, and dealt with horrible Stephen as he continuously leered over poor Rosie. She always managed to remain composed, even though I could tell she would love to stick pins in his eyes. Weekends were usually a hungover blur, spent with Frankie so I didn’t have to face being on my own.
One morning while I was in the middle of sorting out a new batch of returned pregnancy tests, wearing two pairs of latex gloves as well as a facemask while trying to avert my nose away from the stench of wee, my phone rang. My ringtone was One Direction’s What makes you beautiful. I loved that song. Was it wrong to fancy them when they were almost half my age, I wondered? I checked to see who it was, but I didn't recognise the number. My curiosity got the better of me, so I peeled off the two pairs of gloves. I was just about to press the answer button when it stopped. I had just put on another two fresh pairs of gloves and was about to pick up another urine-ridden stick when it started ringing again. I got them off quicker this time and pressed answer. When I heard Marc’s voice on the other end, I was nearly sick. My stomach somersaulted three hundred and sixty degrees. The conversation had pretty much gone like this:
“Hi, Lily, it’s me –”
“Marc – I, well, I–” I had waited for four weeks for this moment, and now that it had come, I had turned into a gibbering wreck, incapable of forming any rational speech. I could see the heads of my team rising from behind their desks, wondering why I was acting weird on the phone to my own husband – they knew nothing about what had happened over the last few weeks. “Just um - just hang on a minute, I just want to go outside.”
I went out of the lab where we separated the sticks, and into the corridor. “Sorry about that, y’know what this place is like . . .” I gave a small nervous laugh.
“Look, Lily, I’m sorry for everything that has happened over the last few weeks, I know I’ve been a complete asshole, actually that’s probably even being kind . . . but I just needed some space.”
“Uh-huh.” My mind had gone blank. I couldn’t think of what to say.
“Look, we need to talk. Can I come over – maybe this evening? If you’re free that is? I mean, if you’ve plans well . . . I can call tomorrow instead?”
The relief coursed through my body. Finally. Finally I was going to see him. Finally I might get to understand what had happened and why.
“No, no this evening is fine,” I said quickly. I knew I sounded eager, but there was no way I was waiting another day to see him. “What time were you thinking?”
“Well how about eight. Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure. Eight is good with me.”
When I hung up the phone my hands were shaking. Dear God I couldn’t believe a brief phone call with my own husband could have this effect on me. Oh my God, oh my God, I was finally going to see him. My mind was racing with all kinds of possible scenarios as I tried to analyse every piece of our conversation. He had said he was sorry, and that he had needed space. Did that mean that he had finally come to his senses? I really didn’t want to get my hopes up, but that was what it had sounded like. I rang Frankie straight away.
“You’ll never guess what?”
“What?”
“Marc just phoned!”
“He did not!”
“Uh-huh.”
“And did he say where he’d been hiding his skanky, asshole, cheating self for the last few weeks?”
“No, we didn’t get into it, he just said that he was sorry and he needed some space. That sounds good, right?”
“Well, em –”
“He’s coming over later, Frankie. To talk. God I’m so nervous just thinking about
it. I know he’s my husband and it’s silly, but I’m a bundle of jitters.”
“And what else did he say?”
“Well he said he was a complete asshole, but it sounds like he has finally copped himself on, doesn’t it?”
“I know you’re excited, but try not to get your hopes up, Lily,” she cautioned.
“I thought you’d be happy for me?”
“Of course I am but well, I don’t want you to be disappointed. Just don’t raise your hopes too high that’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m not, Frankie.” I knew I sounded defensive but I hoped she would have at least been excited for me.
Just then Stephen came out through the swinging double doors that led back into the lab.
“Lily – there are tests to be sorted in there. Maybe when you’re finished your personal call, you could go back in and lend Rosie and the team some support?”
“Sure. Sorry, I’m coming now,” I said to Stephen.
“Look, I’ve got to go here –” I said to Frankie.
“Okay well, good luck and make sure you let him know just how badly he’s treated you. And ring me straight away as soon as you can, no matter what time, okay?”
When I had hung up and went back in to my desk, I must say I was a bit miffed by Frankie’s reaction. I knew she was just looking out for me and warning me to be cautious, but didn’t she realise how monumental this was? I had been a devastated mess for the last few weeks, and now I finally was getting a chance to see my husband again and get some answers. I had just wanted her to be happy for me, but instead she had stripped the gloss off and made me seem silly for getting excited at all.
After the faulty tests had all been categorised, I headed back into the call centre. As I answered calls for the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t keep my head straight. My mind just kept wandering to all the possible scenarios that could happen that evening. I imagined us having a tearful heart to heart where Marc apologised over and over again, saying that he didn’t know what had got into him and begged me to take him back if I could ever find room in my heart to forgive him. I wouldn’t make it easy for him though – there was no doubt about that. He had hurt me very badly, but I just wanted to start over and move on from this awful mess.
***
Although it was long anyway, the journey home from work on the bus that evening felt longer than ever. Eight o’clock couldn’t come quick enough. The traffic tailed back more than usual, and every set of lights that we came up against seemed to be red. I had hoped to have time to get myself ready before he called, and this was eating up valuable minutes.
I wanted to look good when Marc saw me, and I had planned exactly what I was going to wear on the bus journey home. I had decided on my favourite red polka dot tea-dress. I had worn it the day after our wedding. It was dressy but not formal, because I didn’t want to look like I made too much of an effort. Luckily my fake tan was done from the weekend before, so I just needed to put a few rollers in my hair. Then I would touch up my make-up so it looked subtle, not like I was going out or anything. The only upshot of Marc leaving me for the last four weeks was that I had lost weight. I was always a curvy size fourteen, and no matter how many times I had tried to lose weight, I never had the will power to stick to a diet. I would always start full of good intentions on a Monday morning and by three o'clock I would be reaching for the Starbars again. Marc was always playing with my “jelly-belly” as he called it. He would make little remarks about how I should join the gym to get fit, or cut back on the salt and vinegar flavoured Hula Hoops – well wait until he saw me now – comfortably fitting into size twelve jeans! I was thinner now than when we had first met. I knew it was silly, but I really hoped that when he saw me looking good that he would remember what we used to have and realise how much he still loved me.
When I got in the door, I hurried down to the bedroom and quickly got changed. Once I had myself ready, I came out to the kitchen and threw some eggs, flour, butter, sugar and lemon zest together into a large mixing bowl to make some cupcakes – nothing too fancy, just some Madeira ones so I had something to offer him with a cup of coffee. I spooned the mixture into a muffin tin and “popped them in the oven,” as Rachel Allen was so fond of saying. I put on the Paulo Nutini CD that we used to listen to together softly in the background in the hope that it would evoke some good memories for him.
When the cupcakes were finished I took them out of the oven to cool. The house had a lovely smell of baking. Didn’t they always say that houses sold better when there was a smell of fresh baking? Well maybe the same trick would work for abandoned wives. Then I sat down and waited. And waited.
At eight on the button, I walked over to window to peer down into the car park to see if there was any sign of his Mazda MX-5 sports car down below, but he wasn’t there yet. I kept hopping up every few minutes to check if he had arrived, and finally after I had checked the car park for the nineteenth time, I heard the bell ring. My stomach somersaulted, and my heart instantly started racing so loudly that I was sure Marc would be able to hear it through the door. I told myself that I was being ridiculous - he was my husband for God's sake but the word husband now seemed strange, it implied an automatic togetherness, or a righteousness, but we hadn’t even got out of the starting blocks of our marriage. I cursed my thumping heart inwardly and told myself to calm down but to no effect, so I took a deep breath and pulled back the door.
“Marc!” I could hear myself crying out like this was all a lovely surprise instead of a pre-arranged visit. “Here, come in, come in.” I knew my voice had a slightly hysterical edge to it. Calm down, play it cool, I warned myself.
I noticed he had new clothes – clothes that he didn’t have before. There was a leather jacket for a start that didn’t exist when he was with me and he was wearing skinny jeans. Skinny jeans! I had never seen him in anything remotely like that before. His hair was longer now too and he had it styled up high, at least two inches high on top of his head. And even though he never wore his hair like that when he was with me, I had to admit that it suited him like that – I wasn’t too sure about the clothes though.
“Lily,” he said nervously.
“Here sit down, well you don’t need me to invite you to sit down . . . I mean it’s your house too, so I shouldn’t be telling you where you can and can’t sit . . .” There it was again, the hysterical little laugh. “Would you like tea or coffee?”
“It’s okay, look I can’t stay long, Lily.” He lowered his eyes to the floor. “Nadia is waiting in the car for me.”
I felt as though he had taken a knife from the set that we were given as a wedding present and stabbed me in the centre of my being.
“Oh I see.” My heart plummeted. All my excitement and anticipation at seeing him that evening was wiped away in an instant and replaced with a feeling of despair. “So are you two . . . together . . . then?” I found myself asking in a small voice that didn't sound like it came from me.
He nodded sheepishly.
The pain was unbearable, it wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing where he had had an affair with another woman for a few weeks and was now regretting it. This was a lot worse. He was leaving me for her.
“That’s why I called over – I feel it’s only fair that I tell you in person that it’s over between us, Lily. I’m sorry –”
“I -I -I -” I could feel my lip quiver. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This really wasn’t happening. Do not cry, I warned myself. Don’t you dare cry, Lily McDermott!
“You look great, Lily, by the way,” he smiled kindly at me. Did he really think that this compliment would soften the blow of the devastating news he had just told me? I knew all about this technique. The human resources department in work used it all the time - it was called sandwich feedback, where you sandwich some bad news in between two positive things, but it was for situations where things like your sales figures were down or “we’ve no wine left, but we do have beer” – not th
at your husband was leaving you for someone else. It was that same charming smile that he always used to get his way. That familiar smile that would always make me melt into his arms, no matter how hard I tried to be mad at him – all he had to do was flash me that smile and I was his, but did he really think that it would work here? That a compliment would ease the pain of what he was telling me?
“I just don't understand, Marc –” My voice was croaking and I knew it was going to break into tears. “I thought we were good, I just don't understand what I did to make you leave me?”
Then the tears started and I could feel my carefully applied mascara and eyeliner run in streams down my face. Then my nose began to run and drip. Don’t be so desperate, have some pride, Lily, a voice warned inside my head but I shut it out.
“Look, Lily – I’m sorry. Really I am – it’s just, well -” he broke off without finishing.
“Please, Marc, you owe me an explanation. You can’t just up and leave me for someone else, we were only three months married!” I tried to wipe my snotty nose with the back of my hand. “You can’t just move out!” I started to feel a bit light-headed. The ground felt like it was rising to meet me. I had to steady myself using the wall as a support.
“I’m sorry, Lily, my head is wrecked from it all . . .”
“Wrecked from all of what? I don’t understand, Marc. It doesn't have to be wrecked – you can come home, we can work it out,” I pleaded. I knew I sounded desperate.
“Look, Lily, please don't cry - I hate seeing you like this –”
“But, Marc – we’re only just married. We’re newly-weds for God's sake – you can’t just leave!” I spluttered.
“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” He hung his head. “Lily, I love Nadia.”
Another blow rained down upon me, I didn’t think I could take it anymore.