He’d have to take responsibility for his own chores. Would he say anything? Or would he get pissed off with me? Wait and see.
Friday night at the pub. A release from social isolation for me. Martin and Shona had a dinner invitation to her parents’ house. I nearly stayed home, but desperation for social contact was a siren call.
Too tense to relax enough for a giggle, I listened with half an ear to Brigid’s description of a patient at work attempting to seduce a doctor. Partway through her story her eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a surprised silent O.
She grabbed my arm. ‘Don’t look now, but our resident Friday night slut has changed her dress code. Jesus wept!’
Curious, I waited a few beats before turning my head to see. I blinked, raked her from head to toe and turned back to Brigid, startled. Bianca hadn’t been looking in our direction. In fact, no-one had, everyone had eyes on Bianca.
‘Um, wow,’ I murmured.
‘Exactly.’ Brigid said, caught halfway between glee and uneasiness.
Bianca looked gorgeous. Gone was the over-the-top face slap. In fact, discreet makeup brought out all her best features – her gorgeous cheekbones, lovely amber eyes and delicately arched eyebrows. Her eyelashes were no longer caked with mascara, but subtly colored, showing to advantage her enviable long lashes. Her hair, usually over-dyed, over dried into a puffy cloud and fixed into place with cheap clips, now glowed a natural color and fell in cascading curls partway down her back.
As for her clothes, well, she looked, I scrabbled for a suitable word, she looked expensive. Her dress, an electric blue, with an elegant swishing skirt, ended demurely just above her knees, and emphasized toned and tanned long legs. Her neckline hinted at sexy cleavage and a front button fastening suggested something sensuous begging to be released. Gone were the cheap, hooker stilettos and in their place, high-heeled, elegant, strappy sandals in a shade of blue slightly darker than her dress. She wore simple jewelry and a silver colored slender watch. In one quick glance, I recognized it as a Longines watch Bianca knew I’d been eyeing for about a year.
Was I envious?
Absolutely.
I was bright green with envy. My face flamed, I glanced down at my baggy t-shirt and jeans, ashamed I no longer made an effort to look good. Why would a man be interested in me?
Certainly not my husband. I may have draped my body in oversize clothes, but I felt naked. Humiliated. Unappealing.
Compliments flew back and forth from everyone at our table. Brigid, too. I could do no less.
‘Bianca, you look amazing,’ I said. I meant it. Even with a seething mass of conflicting emotions raging through me. Deep inside, my self-esteem shriveled.
‘Thank you, Rose.’ She raked my face, hair and baggy top with a sly smile. ‘You should make an effort, too. Before it’s too late.’ She said it low enough for me and Brigid to hear, before turning away, but only after she’d seen my instant mortification. I knew from the way she tossed her head, dismissing me that, while her outside had changed, she remained unchanged inside. She still had daggers out for women. I don’t think she could help it. Women were her natural enemies.
Lips thinned in dislike, Brigid patted my leg under the table. ‘Never mind, Rose, she will always be the little hooker inside, no matter how much she attempts to cover the dross with gloss.’ She said it loud enough for Bianca to hear. Lisa and Tony, even Andy heard. Bianca’s shoulders tensed, shooting a short-lived thrill of shock and amusement through me. Tony and Lisa pointedly turned away from us. Andy shocked himself by sniggering into his beer, then glanced up at me from under his eyebrows to gauge my reaction. I pulled a rueful face.
Battle lines had been drawn and our friends were taking sides. I sat mystified, at a loss to understand how Bianca maneuvered people and events to suit her hidden agenda. Before she came back into my life, I would have counted Lisa as a casual friend, not a confidante, and her husband as kind and considerate, but tonight they were changing their allegiance and I didn’t get it.
Had I somehow become more objectionable than I knew? Or was Bianca just a clever operator, despite her obvious playacting? If Andy could see through her, why couldn’t all the others? Especially Eddie? Because, even as I watched from the sidelines, I saw his admiration. Tony and Lisa, too. Fiona’s face had lit up with admiration. Bianca basked in her newfound glory.
Brigid watched with detached fascination. Like a rabbit watching a snake. Andy eyed Bianca with malicious glee. He saw through her attention-seeking posturing.
I looked down at my hands, clasped so tight my fingers were bloodless. Slowly I unclenched them.
I spent the rest of the evening in a daze of misery. People talked to me, and I answered in all the right places, even making conversation of my own, but I was playacting – like Bianca. Unlike her, I didn’t crave attention, I wanted to fade into the background. After a bathroom visit, alone, I sat in a corner, half hidden behind Fiona, determined to disappear.
Bianca had become the better player and I was conceding the battlefield. My brain had frozen. I had no idea how to reclaim ground I’d once inhabited without any fear of a corrosive manipulator. My frenemy had become a serious predicament. Even as I studied, I could see the effect she had on Eddie. He’d become part of her coterie, a laughing group of friends. I felt like the rank outsider, standing at a window looking in, never welcomed in.
Brigid called it quits for the night before anyone else. She stood to leave. I decided I’d had enough, too.
‘Eddie,’ I tapped his shoulder. ‘I need to go. I’ve got a splitting headache. Take me home, please.’
He scowled at me, while I hovered, hesitant to ask a favor of my own husband. Couldn’t he show a little concern?
‘Okay,’ he said, reluctance in every muscle as he made to stand up.
‘I’ll take you home, Rose. It’s not far out of my way.’ Brigid made the offer, relieved, Eddie sat back down.
I sat in Brigid’s car, face like a slapped arse. My marriage had turned into a wasteland. Ripples of despair and fury trembled through me and I was ashamed. Ashamed, because Eddie cared so little for me. How had that happened?
Brigid, I discovered, had an agenda, a reason for giving me a lift. She got straight to the point.
‘You’re not trying, Rose.’
‘Huh?’
‘Remember at school how Bianca divided us up and spat us out?’
‘How could I fucking well forget?’ I said.
‘Yeah, yeah, you and I know that, and so does Shona, but the others don’t. That’s why they’re putty in her hands. I’m with Shona on this. Why the fuck did you invite her back into your life?’
I blew out my cheeks in frustration. ‘She came to me for help and I felt obliged to help her. That’s all I can say.’
‘Christ, Rose, that’s pathetic. Would you have helped her if you’d been able to guess how she’d screw us all over again?’
I gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘No, I bloody well wouldn’t. I’d rather walk on hot coals than see that cunning little bitch destroy everything again.’
We’d reached home, and sat facing each other in the car.
‘Well, what are you going to do about her?’
‘Why me?’ I cried.
‘Cos you brought her back, you dummy.’
‘Oh, God,’ I rubbed my face feverishly. ‘I know. What can I do? I haven’t a clue.’
‘Dunno, Rose, but you’d better do something, because she’s got her eye on Eddie and she’s also got her eye on Tony. They’re both married, but that won’t stop her. She doesn’t give a flying toss who she tramples to get her way.’
Hopeless, I looked at her. ‘She always wins. You know that.’
‘Don’t be such a wimp. You’ve only been married a short time, what is it, four months? He hasn’t fallen out of love with you, so use that as leverage.’
‘He wouldn’t believe me if I tried to make him see what a sneaky little bitch she is.’
‘The
n don’t try. Woo him, seduce him, make him forget about her. Lose some weight, for pity’s sake. Look at how sexy she is. You won’t compete if you don’t do something.’
‘I shouldn’t have to compete,’ I said angrily. ‘He’s my husband, for Christ’s sake.’
And besides, I hate how appearance is the gold standard for women. Not for men. Beautiful and thin, that’s what women are told we need to make us acceptable, even now in the twenty-first century. Men make as little effort as is acceptable. And if they make too much effort, I find it repellent. Double standards all round.
‘Look, Rose, I can’t tell you how to do it, but if you want to keep him, then you have to fight for him, okay?’
‘What if it’s Tony she’s after, not Eddie?’
Brigid huffed at this. ‘Yeah, I know. But you know what? I’d give the same advice to Lisa, if I knew her well enough, but I can’t, cos Bianca’s got her wrapped round her little finger, and all the while she’s testing Tony, finding out his weaknesses, finding out what he likes in a woman. Lisa needs to watch out, too. We all saw that little gold-digger tonight, and guess who she looked like? You. When you were a damn sight slimmer. Did it work? Well, what do you think?’
‘We all thought she looked great and we all said so, especially Eddie.’ I heaved a huge sigh.
‘She warned you, didn’t she? Make an effort before it’s too late. Well, she’s thrown down the gauntlet, hasn’t she?’
Morose, I nodded.
‘One more thing, Rose. Lisa might be taken in by Bianca’s charm offensive, but she’s still protecting her man. Every time Tony looks at another woman’s tits or arse, she kicks him, thumps him or glares at him. She’s protecting her assets, even if she doesn’t know it. What are you doing to protect yours?’
‘Wow, Brigid. You sure as hell like to call a spade a spade, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I’m famous for my tactfulness,’ she said, her tone withering.
I managed a snicker. ‘Okay, thanks for giving it to me straight. It’s a perspective I hadn’t thought through.’
‘You’re welcome, love. Now, go inside and take something for your headache and work out a plan of action. That’s an order.’
‘Yes, boss.’ I leaned over to give her a kiss. ‘Thanks.’
Once inside, I leaned against the front door for a minute, taking deep breaths. Brigid had managed in about half an hour of pep talking to light a fire inside me. Determined, I headed for the kitchen, took painkillers and strode into the study.
The internet’s been my friend for a while. I switched on the computer and scribbled a few notes while I waited for it to warm up. The next hour was spent looking at recipes for healthy meals that didn’t leave me hungry, plus scouring local sites for getaway weekends.
My plan had three simple points.
First – regain Eddie’s attention by losing the weight and looking good. Never mind my outraged feminist sensibilities.
Second – have getaway weekends, preferably once a month, effectively taking one Friday night in four out of the equation. That’s the only place he was exposed to her tricks each week.
Third – as Shona had said – screw Eddie senseless.
I sat back and read my list, already losing heart. All very well to investigate everything on Google, but could I match it in reality?
I went through the points one by one. Losing weight – surely I could do that? I hadn’t been successful so far. I’d made all sorts of promises to myself in the last few weeks, recording nothing but abysmal failure. Poor food choices kept company with loneliness and misery.
I stuck my chin out. How about I simply disciplined my mind and had a glass of water every time I felt like snacking on crisps, chocolate, pizza and ice cream? Plus, why not take a walk after I get home from work? A short walk to start with, anyway. Perhaps I could look up the 5:2 diet women at work were rattling on about.
Number two. Weekends away. How hard would it be to get Eddie to agree? I’d be willing to sacrifice some of my spending money from our Alaskan holiday next year. I took a deep breath, recognizing I’d have to give up most of my spending money to afford weekends away. Would Eddie be happy to part with some of his savings? I wasn't sure. But if it was for our benefit, wouldn’t he agree?
Number three should be the easiest. We had a great sex life. I pulled up short. Did we? When was the last time we’d made love? I thought back. A fortnight ago – a long time for us. Misery took hold, I felt unloved, and unlovable. What was wrong?
Bianca couldn’t be responsible for our lackluster love life. She didn’t see him often enough and it wasn’t as if he was sleeping with her, he was going to the gym and making new friends there. Had he met someone there? A sexy woman who made no demands on him? I shook my head. Not Eddie, he wasn't like that. If a woman hit on him he’d tell me and make a joke of it, then we’d make love, happy to have each other.
A red flag went up in my head. Maybe he wouldn’t tell me. Maybe he wasn't happy. Maybe he found my heavier body repellent. I shook my head again. No, that couldn’t be right. Heaps of married people were overweight. It didn’t stop them having a healthy sex life… did it?
I powered down the computer, feeling flat. I glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight and Eddie hadn’t come home. Each of my threefold plans looked too dismal to contemplate.
Yawning, I headed upstairs for bed. Eddie might be willing to have a late night, but I was knackered. I climbed into my side of the bed and didn’t stir until eight-thirty on Saturday.
I rolled over. Eddie had already gone, leaving only a dent in his pillow. The gym. Again. I leapt out of bed, anger surging. This was meant to be a marriage, but I might as well have been living with a flat mate. And a not nice one at that.
Still resolute about my diet, I ate fruit and porridge, no sugar, and just a touch of yoghurt for flavor, filling and not fattening. I’d taken my first step and felt good. The euphoria didn’t last. I paced the house feeling more and more mistreated.
This couldn’t go on.
When he came in, whistling, not a care in the world, I was sitting on a sofa waiting. He strode past the living room, caught a glimpse of me and turned back.
‘Hi, Rose. I thought you’d be out shopping?’
Of course he did. But I didn't say it out loud. Instead, I tried sounding reasonable.
‘Eddie, we need to talk.’
Wary now, he came in and sat on the edge of the sofa opposite me, giving the impression he’d bolt at the hint of discord.
‘What’s up?’ He aimed for nonchalance with a note of defiance.
‘Everything, Eddie,’ I said, tone icy. ‘I’ve just about had enough of not seeing my husband, for more than a couple of hours in total each week. You’re never home. And when you deign to grace me with your presence all I hear about is your workout at the gym. You barely do more than perch here for an hour or two on the weekends, leaving me to do all the housework. I’m sick to death of being a gym widow.’
I swear he looked relieved before he bit right back. ‘That’s not fair, Rose. You’re usually in bed when I get home. C’mon, be reasonable.’
‘Eddie,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘I’m in bed because it’s late and I have work the next day. How come you manage to spend about three or four hours at the bloody gym each night? That’s just ridiculous!’
‘Because I enjoy it.’ He was shouting. ‘Why the fuck do you think? I want to look good and stay healthy, which is more than I can say for you.’
I went white with shock. ‘I’m not that overweight...’
‘But you’re not healthy. You’re puffed just walking upstairs.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I said, enraged. ‘I’m on my feet all day at work, often at a fast trot. I’m not that unhealthy.’
‘And I run about ten miles at the gym, Rose, so I do think you’re unfit and
unhealthy.’
I wanted to hit him. Self-righteous prick.
‘How did we get to this?’ I asked, bewil
dered. ‘I wanted to talk about us, our relationship, not about your physical fitness versus mine.’
‘What about our relationship?’ His lip curled into a sneer.
‘Only that we don’t spend any time together, so our relationship sucks, Eddie. Don’t you want to spend time with me?’
‘Not when you nag me all the time,’ he snapped back.
‘That’s so not true! When do I nag? You’re never here to say anything to you, let alone nag.’
‘Yeah.’ He snorted, contempt contorting his face. ‘It’s “Eddie, do the ironing, Eddie, do the washing, Eddie, come do the shopping with me,”’ he mimicked me. ‘Of course you nag.’
In attempts to salvage our marriage, I’d literally said nothing to him in weeks.
Infuriated, I lost it, surging to my feet. ‘Eddie, it’s your washing, your ironing, your groceries, not just mine. I’m not your mother, clearing up after you, wiping your nose, making sure you have a clean hankie when you go to work. I’m not your fucking servant, you shitty bastard.’
‘Don't bring my mother into this.’
‘I’m not, you moron. I’m bringing you into it. You’re avoiding every single thing I said. Do you want this marriage to fail? Do you?’
‘No, but I don’t want it on your terms, miss goody-two-shoes!’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You want everything your way,’ he yelled, bright red, face inches from me.
‘That’s so twisted.’ My shoulders slumped. ‘Right now, everything’s your way, not mine. What say do I have in anything you do? You’re not interested in my work, so we don’t talk about it. I changed my job to be here more often – just like you wanted – and what do I get? Zip, zero and zilch in the way of thanks or even any interest in what I’m doing now, which, incidentally, is boring not only to you but to me. So what do we talk about on the very rare occasions we’re even in the same house, let alone the same room? Hmm, let me think. What do we talk about? Oh, yes – your work, your gym workout, your friends, your everything. I think you’ve forgotten I exist, haven't you? The only time we share meals is on the weekends, if I’m lucky, the only time you do your share of the housework – less, much, much less than half of it – is when I’ve asked you, not nagged you. I shouldn’t have to say anything, you used to do your fair share without even thinking about it.’
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