Love Triangle: Three Sides to the Story

by Brenda Barrett

  “Don’t get upset.” He looked at me reprovingly. “I just want to do what’s best for all concerned. I am only a man Karen, and yes I am thinking about my children. I have three already, and I have no idea how I will break the news that their new brother is not from their mother.”

  He walked back to the bed and stood over me. “This happened. We will just have to deal with it the best way we know how.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  George

  The sun was setting on the horizon in Negril, its pink and yellow hues blending into the faded blue of the sea. I held up my glass and toasted the bride along with all the participants of the wedding being held at The Inn. The rustic exterior was no indication of the plush interior and the lovely view.

  I looked over at Marie who was smiling vaguely at her Aunt Sylvie’s joke. What were they laughing at? He realised that these days he was excluded from Marie’s thoughts.

  The only emotion that was presented to him was a faint dislike and the smallest thing he did was cause for hostility. She refused to have anything to do with him and was biding her time until the summer holidays to go to America with the children for two months.

  She refused to talk about Karen or Karen’s child and the very mention of the name Karen would send her into a depression that would last for days. It’s been three weeks since she heard that Karen was pregnant and she’s been living in denial ever since.

  They were invited to her cousin’s wedding months before and they could not refuse to attend at this time so they were there as a couple, the first time they were going out together since The Problem.

  He was beginning to think of their life together as before The Problem and after The Problem. Her family was speculating about them staying together for much longer, his children were picking up on the tension in the air and were gradually becoming withdrawn.

  They were not fooling anybody by showing up today at Tricia’s wedding.

  Marie laughed at something that her sister Laura said and her whole face lit up, she looked animated as she used to be before the whole problem with Karen. She looked so beautiful and carefree that his heart ached in his chest. A gentle wind blew and tossed strands of her hair across her face, he wanted to smooth them back into the chignon that she sported for the occasion.

  Timothy held on to her hand, his little body pressing into her as she spoke animatedly to Laura. In that moment George felt an acute loss over what he had given up when he went into the arms of another woman.

  “George old boy.” He almost choked on his wine Marie’s father, Peter, slapped him on his back. His grin was a mile wide and did not reach his eyes.

  “Hi, Peter I … I … ”

  “Cat got your tongue, George.” Peter was still smiling that polite smile that looked as if it was painted on.

  “I have not spoken to you since the … I did not know what to call it … the upset in the relationship between Marie and I.”

  “I miss you, George,” Peter said, suddenly looking sad. “I have no one to argue the finest points of cricket with, and it’s the season.”

  I realised Peter’s tactic. He was a father of three girls; he was good at using the art of distraction. He was lulling me into a comfortable conversation, and when I was well and truly hooked, he would deliver the hard stuff.

  I went along with him anyway. “I know I missed the game against South Africa, but I heard that the West Indies won fair and square.”

  Peter nodded his head. “The bowling left a little bit to be desired, but there was an improvement in the game. The worst thing in cricket though is a man who can’t bowl and lets down the rest of the team. Imagine this, a team needs a few wickets and they send out an able bowler. After twelve overs, the man fowls up, the batsman swings the ball and it hits him right in the balls.” Peter’s smile was back again, as if the thought of the ball hitting the cricketer in the balls was a good one.

  “Obviously you are talking about a test match,” I said to Peter as I took a drink from a passing waiter.

  “Oh yes … yes,” Peter nodded, “all of life is a test match. Ah … whenever there is a lousy bowler the team is displeased. I always remember that the bowler was not always lousy and that he did a good job in previous matches, his only saving grace really, especially, if he had a couple of maiden overs, and the batsmen were getting frustrated with their little runs. You know what I hate most, George?”

  “No,” I said puzzled.

  “In cricket there are no guarantees. You start out with two of the best teams, but one has to come out on top. I don’t like the fact that my team doesn't always come out on top, but I anticipate the next match and hope they’ll do better.”

  I nodded but I could barely read between the lines of cricket wisdom. Still, I could deduce that he was telling me to keep batting. Or was it bowling? I grimaced and tried to stop thinking about Peter’s roundabout way of imparting wisdom.

  Peter smiled when he saw my uncertain expression, “I wanted to kill you when I heard that Carol or what’s her name was pregnant. I thought, how careless can one man be? But cricket put it together for me and the fact that my daughter still loves you, she just has a lot to digest. Don’t let it slip through your hands.” He slapped me on the shoulders and went to greet someone else.

  I should have felt like I was among enemies since this was Marie’s family but, curiously, I didn’t. In fact, I felt even better after Peter’s little cricket talk.

  I smiled and made small talk and answered blunt questions about my marriage until I found myself beside Marie.

  “Hi,” I said. I had Rachel in my hands and I knew that she would be forced to be polite to me for the time being.

  “Hello,” she smiled at me, a smile that could run the meat section of a supermarket for a whole week.

  “I realised that you hung back when the bouquet was to be caught. I'm grateful.”

  “Don’t be,” she spoke with her teeth clamped. “That exercise is for disillusioned young women who believe in happily-ever-afters with their faithful spouses and their 2.5 children in a lavish mansion in the country.”

  “Marie …” I was about to respond when Rachel interrupted, “Daddy can I go to the pool side with Amelia?”

  “Is Grandma over there?” Marie asked quickly, her voice softening as she looked at her daughter, who was dressed in pink from head to toe.

  Rachel nodded and I put her on her feet. She ran to her cousin Amelia and they went to the poolside, leaving me alone with my wife for the first time in a long time. It was surprising. I felt as if we were truly alone amidst the crowd.

  “Marie, I love you,” I blurted out before she could move away.

  “You sure have a lot of love to spread around George.” She looked at me icily. “A new baby on the way, an old girlfriend, your other children. Wow, quite a bit of love.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I told you it’s over between Karen and me.” I just wanted her near, and if I was repeating myself for the thousandth time, I didn't care.

  “George,” she sighed, “I am not going to invest anything more in you emotionally. I am totally dry right now. I am also bitter. I prayed about it and prayed about it and I think I am going to leave you for a while, distance myself from the situation.”

  My limbs froze.

  “Marie, please whatever you do, don’t leave me,” I whispered, barely restraining myself from grabbing her hands and never letting go.

  “Please, George. I need to get used to the idea that the picture of you in my head no longer fits the reality. I am leaving next week. I was going to tell you tonight, but since you felt the need to talk now … ”

  “But how? You have school.” My voice became almost plaintive, and I was happy that in the gathering dusk everybody was at the poolside milling around.

  “I took three months leave, plus my summer vacation.”

  “Marie, that’s six months. Six months? What about the kids? You can’t just take them out of school now.”

&n
bsp; “You’ll cope. You can send them up in the summer to spend their vacation with me.”

  “I … I … feel as if I am losing you.” Tears pricked the back of my lashes and I could not stop them. They were amassing like an army ready to fall at the least provocation.

  “Who are you going to?” I asked my voice husky.

  “That’s none of your business.” Marie looked at me dispassionately. “Nothing I do is your business anymore. You lost the right to that when you formed another family behind my back.”

  “I have a right to know,” I pleaded, ignoring her taunt. “I can’t send my children to just anywhere.”

  “I’ll give you the address. I’ll meet them at the airport.”

  “I think we should work this out, Marie.”

  “I think you should leave me alone, George.” She walked away to the poolside and joined her family. I was left standing in the dark with my life torn apart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Marie

  The drive home from the wedding was fraught with tension. George had a very hurt look in his eyes. They were wet as if he had been crying; the kids were in the back seat sleeping. I held myself stiffly as far away from George as I could. My neck was hurting as I tried to stare out the window and at the barely discernible landscape. My lips were pursed so tightly I doubt I could pry them open without pain.

  I was going to leave the island and my husband to his alternate life with Karen. I was not feeling rational or remotely accommodating so when my mother of all people had whispered that I give George a chance, I had felt like screaming.

  This was not just going to go away because everybody thought it should. There was a child involved. My husband was going to become a father again. I felt my head throbbing as soon as I thought about it. I could have forgiven the affair, I was even on the verge of getting back my life when, voila, out of the blue like a bad sore came the announcement.

  My husband was going to be a father.

  The statement pounded in my head in a monotone like a Gregorian chant.

  My husband was going to be a father.

  My husband was going to be a father.

  I could not escape it. This pain.

  God, what did I do wrong? I must have done something to be punished like this. I was happy. I was living as okay as this world would ever be. Why punish me like this?

  “Marie,” George’s voice was husky. I faced him in the dark car.

  “What?”

  “I think if you are planning to do anything like div … like divor …” He cleared his throat, “like leaving we should discuss it. I don’t think that running away now would be the answer.”

  I swung my head back to look in the darkness as the car sped by. Resentment boiled in my gut like lava.

  “I am not in the mood to care what you think, George.” My voice was tired and in the silence of the car, I could hear the gentle snoring of my children.

  “I can’t take this anymore either, Marie,” George clenched his hands on the steering wheel. “I am penitent, what should I do? Kill myself? Would that make you feel better?”

  I had to snort at this.

  “If you can’t forgive me, then there will be no future for us. I am sorry Karen got pregnant. I am sorry I had the affair in the first place. But I just can’t sit back and let you leave me for six months and not see you or resolve our problems. Our lives will just be hanging in the air. The issues must be dealt with.”

  I understood what he was saying, I know that most people would think me an idiot but the pain of betrayal was too much.

  “I need the distance,” I whispered. I cleared my throat because my voice was husky and I didn’t want to seem as if I was not strong. “I need time,” I looked at George; he stopped at a traffic light in Santa Cruz and he looked at me squarely, the light from the streetlamp cast shadows on his face. “Will you ever forgive me?”

  That was a trick question, wasn’t it? I was confused but I knew that this question would make the difference between us, no matter how bitter I was right now or how much I hated what he did. This question was the crucial question. I did not want to give a flippant answer. This was it.

  I inhaled. The light changed to green, we drove in silence. We passed a church and then I remembered the answer I gave to a question about fidelity that was posed in a seminar for young married couples. The question was "would you forgive your spouse?" I piped up, secure in the knowledge that my husband would know no other. “Of course, I would. After all, how can we ask for God’s forgiveness and not forgive our fellow men.”

  The older married couple that were in charge of the session saw my naiveté and insisted.

  “Look at the person beside you. If he or she cheated, betrayed your trust, could you find it in your heart to forgive?”

  My friend Constance stood up and said brightly, “Seventy times seven.” Her husband, Lionel had nodded severely.

  They were now divorced. I winced as I thought of them. ‘Seventy times seven’ had been too much for Constance, and she had taken her baby son and moved to another part of the island.

  “But would you forgive them?” The older couple had insisted.

  The younger people, confident that love would conquer all, had been slightly annoyed at their insistence on self-examination.

  The older couple had simply said, “Just remember that God expects us to forgive whether we feel like it or not.”

  That statement was meant for me now. This was my test. Will you ever forgive me, Marie?

  If I wanted to pray tonight, I would have to say yes. If I wanted to stall, I could say that I don’t know. If I wanted to harden my heart, I could always leave him for six months and probably not come back and face my life.

  George was turning into the driveway. He was silent after he asked the question, partly because the children were waking up.

  “Are we home, Mommy?” Rachel asked, her little voice innocent as she rubbed her eyes. Her brother and sister drunkenly pushed themselves out of the car as I scooped her up. George guided Timothy and Gabrielle into the house, as I followed silently behind. We brushed against each other in the hallway as we turned to go into Rachel’s room.

  I flinched away. I did not desire his touch, however accidental.

  I tucked my baby girl into her bed and thought about the other one on the way. Would it be a he or she? Would the child come over? Knowing George, he would want to have a hand in the rearing of his child. I would be the one to make sure that the child was okay when he came over. I would be looking after another woman’s brat.

  Tears squeezed past my eyelids as I stared down at Rachel's perfect features. I sniffled and I felt his hands on my shoulder.

  “Come,” he whispered in my ear. I allowed him to lead me into our bedroom.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” I sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes were red and my face was streaked with tears. I glanced at the mirror and shuddered.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to know?” I asked. I wanted an honest answer. I didn’t want him to shield his emotions from me.

  “Yes,” he nodded.

  “How pregnant is she?” I forced the question pass my throat. I sounded rusty like an old woman.

  George glanced at me and sat down on the bed tentatively as if he expected me to start ranting and raving at any time.

  “Six months.”

  “What went wrong the other day?”

  “She almost miscarried, light bleeding … cramps.” He glanced down at his folded hands. “I offered her the house in St. Elizabeth.”

  “That’s my house,” I reminded him. I had bought the six acres of land with the fruit trees and a stream in the backyard for a good deal. The house had come as a bonus. The income from renting the house was going toward our children’s college fund. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to relax. I wanted to know what was going on with Karen and I had to stay calm to hear.

  “It seemed like a good idea, if she
wasn’t in Mandeville,” George responded.

  “You can’t just hide her away like a bad sore,” I found myself saying on behalf of the enemy. “What about access to your child? You would have to go to St. Elizabeth every time you wanted to see him or her.”

  He shrugged and exhaled. His shoulders slumped. “Anything I will do will seem unsatisfactory. Her family is in St. Elizabeth. I know she’ll need them near.”

  “Then if her family is in St. Elizabeth why would she need the house? We are saving for our children’s college education. Or have you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Fine,” I mumbled, disgruntled.

  He looked over at me, his eyes faintly amused. “You sound resigned to your fate.”

  I looked up into his handsome face and lay on the bed. He slumped down beside me, his hand around my shoulders. He flipped off the light and whispered in my ear, “Aren’t you going to take off your dress?”

  “No.” I clung to his hand and fitted my face in his chest. He smelled like Old Spice. I inhaled and allowed peace to take over my mind.

  “You do realise that I have decided to forgive you?” I said into his shirt.

  He squeezed me tighter. “Thank you.”

  I fell asleep for the first time in months with a peace that I had thought I would never experience again. This forgiveness thing was not so bad after all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Karen

  “I am eight months pregnant, my nose is huge, my ankles are huge, and my bladder belongs to somebody else.”

  My mother looked up from her reading and laughed. “I did that a couple of times. You will be alright in four weeks. Everything will go back to its normal size, except the bags under your eyes.”

  “I can’t believe they sent you work to do,” Shauna said, looking at the papers strewn across my shelf of a belly. “That is against the maternity laws.”

  “I went to them pregnant,” I had to remind Shauna. “They took me on anyway and these are more boring than taxing.”