by Carol Thomas
“And do you think that’s possible?”
Abby considered for a moment. “Maybe. I don’t know. But here’s the thing… to get that I have to accept our life on these new terms. He cheated on me. I know that. Simon betrayed me.” The words came out more easily this time. “I trusted him implicitly, but I guess he wasn’t who I thought he was. What if I can’t just accept that? God knows I am having trouble coping with it.”
Mallory flicked through Abby’s book. “I couldn’t help but notice…” She paused, opening the book to the page of Abby’s letter. “You tore pages out; did you restart this many times?”
“A few, yes.”
“Why not leave your first attempts in there? Why take them out?”
“It was messy. I wanted it all down in one,” Abby answered, wondering why the conversation was heading off on a new tangent.
“And would you say you often do that? Start over rather than continue with a mistake?”
“I like things to be right. I find it hard to live with mess and mistakes.” Abby laughed but stopped when she realised perhaps what it was Mallory was getting at.
“Moving on, starting over, would that feel more like a new beginning for you? Starting afresh?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“But you don’t yet feel able to do that because… because you are unsure of your feelings for Simon,” Mallory pondered for a moment before continuing, “and to move forward with Simon, you have to—”
“Accept the mess, live with it all.” Abby finished the sentence before Mallory did. Mallory smiled before continuing.
“Well, I might not have put it quite like that.”
“But it’s true,” Abby affirmed, beginning to understand her personality in this new light. “I can’t just walk away because I don’t know if that’s what I want and I am scared to stay with Simon in case I can’t accept what has happened – to live with the mess.” This made sense to Abby; this was the crux of what was causing the turmoil in her mind. Yes, she was hurt but being confused and scared of the future was what was preventing her from moving forward.
“Perhaps knowing your mind more fully will only come through understanding your mind more fully.”
Abby looked at Mallory. Clearly she was turning her counsellor-speak-ometer up but what she was saying was actually making sense. Abby felt relieved; she had gained a small insight into her own mind, it made her dare to hope that she wasn’t going crazy, and that she just might find a way forward.
“Only you can decide what is right for you Abby, but be aware, sometimes we have to actively find the answers we are seeking. Holding back, never making mistakes is safe, it’s neater and causes less mess along the way, but it can also be boring and stagnating. Taking chances, making mistakes and learning from them, seeking and finding the key to your happiness – now that’s empowering!” Mallory sat back, allowing Abby to absorb her words.
Chapter 20
Abby was starting a new phase in her book. She was inspired by Mallory and wanted to record her words of encouragement. Unfortunately every time she went to note them down Eleanor’s old favourite you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette kept popping into her head. Abby would have liked something a bit more fitting to herald the change but decided the wisdom of Eleanor Scott would have to do, at least until Mallory’s words came back to her.
As she looked at the new page she had turned, and her not-quite-fitting-to-the-occasion quote, she really hoped this was it: the first step in the new phase of her life. She was going to strive to stay positive, to push herself to make decisions, and to do that she knew she had to start trying things out – testing the waters of her new life to see what she wanted, what made her happy and what she could live with. To mark the change she set about making arrangements for three things she felt would be steps in the right direction. Firstly she looked up her local sexual health clinic, inwardly thanking her Internet research for providing the correct name. Finding they had a drop-in clinic that very morning led to two further phone calls: one to school saying she would be taking her Planning, Preparation and Assessment time at home (it was planning, preparation and assessment she intended doing, just not quite of the nature they assumed) and another to Simon to suggest he went with her.
It was only after the call that she considered her motives for doing that. She really didn’t want to give him the wrong idea – she wasn’t checking that they both had a clean bill of health because she was ready to leap back into a sexual relationship with him, but equally if that arose in the future she really didn’t want to be worrying about STIs – an acronym she also had her research to thank for. She also wanted him to share in what she felt was the ugliness of it all, the grimmer side of having an affair. The reality of it was that he had put them both at risk. He had participated in what she could only presume to be the seduction, the euphoria and the illicit excitement of it all – now he could join her in facing the decidedly less attractive consequences.
Of course he agreed to go. He wanted to be moving on and despite feeling abjectly horrible about putting them in that situation, guilt had flooded through him as Abby had stated it all in such a very matter-of-fact manner on the phone, it seemed a step forward. Part of him was relieved to see Abby behaving more like her old self; more like the Abby he knew – the one who coped, who got on, who moved forward. It made him hope that his actions hadn’t entirely broken her to the point where that side of her was lost.
The second positive thing Abby did was to ask Rachel to meet them for lunch at her favourite Italian restaurant in the centre of town. Having that to look forward to would help her through the clinic. And if she was honest, Abby knew Rachel’s presence would make it hard for her and Simon to dwell on the tests, the reason behind their clinic visit, or their results. As close as they all were it wasn’t really the kind of thing the three of them would discuss over lunch. Besides, Abby found having Rachel around was making her feel generally more positive – seeing her on Sunday evening and talking to her had undoubtedly put her in a happier place.
The third positive thing was sending a text to Melissa reminding her that she was going to find them some form of exercise to do, and suggesting that despite her initial protestations, maybe they could even check out the gym.
Aware that was all quite enough for now, Abby stepped away from her phone and focused on getting the girls to school and nursery. She knew that once that was done she had approximately twenty minutes to get home, have a shower and get ready for Simon to collect her. She wondered what she should wear – having smears and babies had taught her that skirts led to less overall nakedness when it came to revealing the lower half of your body but she also wasn’t entirely sure the testing would be that explicit. Most of what she had read suggested urine samples and blood tests would pretty much be it, although she had stopped Googling when she started to imagine having every symptom she came across.
Simon pulled up on time, just as Abby knew he would. As she left the house he got out of the car and opened her door. Abby wondered if her jeans were the right choice as Simon looked smart in tailored trousers and a white cotton shirt, open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up. Neither of them knew quite how to greet each other; the result being that Simon placed a rather awkward kiss on Abby’s cheek as she moved past. Abby slid onto the leather seat, noticing instantly that Simon had cooled it ready for her. It was refreshing; although it was barely 9:30 in the morning the heat of the day to come was already building. Abby looked round the car; Simon’s car, like Brad’s, was a very masculine domain – black interior, chrome finish and leather sports seats. The difference was that in the back there were two booster seats and the side pockets were stuffed with remnants of the girls’ weekend with their daddy – Jessica’s book, one of Grace’s teddies, drawings and tissues. It was so cute it made Abby smile.
“Could you pass my sunglasses out, please?” Simon pointed at the glove box.
Abby automatically opened it. Inside th
ere was a small, perfectly made origami elephant. She faltered as she reached in to get it.
“He goes with your giraffe.” Simon smiled, nervously.
“I know.” Her voice came out more croakily than she intended. “Thank you.” She looked at the elephant, the second in the set of animals she knew Simon was replicating for her. The elephant, though, had a little black velvet pouch wrapped delicately around its neck. Abby looked at it.
“You can open it, it’s for you.”
Abby carefully removed it and slowly slipped the top open. Inside was a beautiful cyan-coloured gemstone; it was highly polished and felt smooth and cool in her hand. She looked at Simon.
“It’s chrysocolla. It’s supposed to encourage letting go – the release of emotional sadness, and support the coming of joy, happiness and peace…” He hesitated, unsure what her response would be. “I know it’s probably silly but I wanted to get it for you.”
Abby clutched it in her hand. She wasn’t entirely convinced about the powers of gemstones; if Mallory had given it to her she probably would have scoffed at it, but it was beautiful, thoughtful and completely apt for the new phase she hoped to be starting. “But the elephant? Aren’t elephants supposed to never forget?” Drawing on humour instead of emotion she meant it to tease him, but the wounded look on his face made her wish she could take it back. She wasn’t trying to hurt him. The gift really was a lovely gesture; she just didn’t want to reveal how touched she was by it.
Aware the comment was more than deserved, Simon shifted in his seat and swallowed. “Well yes, happiness, longevity and patience too; but never forgetting, well that’ll be for me. Honestly Abby, I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. I hope to get the rest of my life – our lives together – to prove to you that I’ll never hurt you like that again.”
Abby’s chest ached a little; she wasn’t trying to get him to apologise again. It wasn’t why she had said it. But she should have known he would have thought the symbolism through. Simon had spent over half his life in advertising and he was always pointing out the hidden meaning in things. Unsure what to say, she looked at the elephant. “Thank you” was all she could manage.
Simon turned to start the engine.
“The giraffe?” She couldn’t help it; she knew he had given it to her with a purpose but she suddenly wondered if that purpose had been more than she first thought.
Without hesitating, he replied, “Sticking your neck out, patience and sturdy footing in life’s rocky terrain.” He smiled.
Abby looked at him. His eyes looked green in the light, and had a little extra sparkle from his response. She had always liked how his mind worked – perfectly apt, of course. Trying to hide her smile she turned to put her seatbelt on.
Simon started to drive, scrolling through and selecting music as he went. As Take That began to play, Abby laughed.
“And I suppose this just happened to be on your iPod?”
“Well…” Simon shrugged his shoulders as a slight blush crept over his cheeks.
Abby momentarily forgot where they were going. Simon was being so sweet it was almost like they were on a date. As the second song started and Abby recognised the beginning of Patience, she leaned forward and skipped to the next track. Reality would hit home soon enough once they got to the clinic, and she didn’t need anything to give her mind an excuse to get out of control.
Sitting outside the hospital felt weird. The last time they had done that together Abby had been in labour. She remembered it so clearly, all the hope and promise in that moment, knowing that when they came out their family of three would be four, and how much she had awaited Grace’s arrival and the completion of the family she had always wanted. It was just over two years ago and yet it had all gone so horribly wrong in that short period of time. She thought about all that had occurred, all that had led them to this situation, sitting outside the hospital again under very different circumstances.
“Ready then?” Simon asked decisively.
They both very much wanted this to be over.
“Let’s do this thing,” Abby replied, clutching her gemstone and quashing the fear building inside her.
They followed the signs towards the clinic. Of course it wasn’t actually called the sexual health clinic; Abby had learnt from the hospital website that she was looking for the Wilson Unit. Obviously a better name to ask for should you get lost en route, she’d mused. When they finally found it Abby took a deep breath. About to enter the door, she felt a tug on her arm and swung her head round.
“Hello, it’s you isn’t it? Mrs Turner from up the school. You taught my Shelley – ooh, must be six years ago now! She’ll be chuffed I’ve seen you. Still teaching then?”
Abby stared at the small, overly excited woman gawking happily at her. She couldn’t believe her misfortune: caught by a parent, with her hand on the door handle of the Wilson Unit. There was no way she could pretend she wasn’t about to go in.
Let the ground swallow me now! Please… she inwardly implored. “Oh yes, Shelley Peters, a lovely girl. Please tell her I said hello.” Abby faltered, her cheeks aflame as she attempted to reassure herself that a) Mrs Peters might not know the nature of the clinic she was heading into and b) she might by some miracle be less of a gossip than she had known her to be six years ago.
Seeing Abby’s mortified face Simon stepped in, cleared his throat and spoke with a distinctly masculine air of authority. “Mrs Turner, the leaflets you need for your class are this way. We must get them now as I’m due in surgery in ten minutes.” With that he opened the door and motioned for Abby to go in, turned to Mrs Peters, shook her hand and told her how lovely it was to meet her.
Abby seized her opportunity to escape and practically ran inside, closely followed by Simon, leaving Mrs Peters calling her farewells and slightly swooning in the corridor.
Abby couldn’t help laughing. “My class? Simon, the eldest children in the school are only eleven!”
“It worked though, didn’t it!” He laughed.
Turning to face the receptionist, their smiles soon faded. They had forms to fill in with their details, and the visit began in earnest. Abby had to remain calm and concentrate. She and Simon, the only person she had slept with for fifteen years, her husband of ten years, were actually in a sexual health clinic to be checked for sexually transmitted infections. The idea that either of them could have contracted something was a reality she didn’t want to consider, but nevertheless she knew that finding out for sure was part of moving forward. She didn’t want to live with the shadow of not knowing.
“If it helps, she told me she had been checked, that she didn’t have anything,” Simon whispered.
Why the hell would that help? You having never spoken to her would have helped. Not having to be here would have helped… In fact you saying that actually makes me think you weren’t safe – otherwise why have the bloody conversation?
“No, not really!” Abby stated honestly.
Abby realised her mind was in danger of spiralling, and took a breath and a slow look around the room. What a strange mix of people, she thought. She looked at the teenage boy opposite who seemed to be there with his grandparents, and the two young girls, who looked too innocent to be at a sexual health clinic, busily texting to her right. These were all just ordinary people. Just like her. What had she expected, scantily clad women and men in raincoats? She chuckled at her own absurdity. The waiting area was just like any other waiting area in the hospital – newly painted but showing the strains of an NHS budget. She didn’t want to be there but she was grateful at least that it didn’t feel like she was being looked down upon or judged in any way.
Simon shifted in his seat; he swallowed a little too often and repeatedly pushed his fingers through his hair. In truth he had been hit for the first time by the prospect that he had put Abby at risk, and he knew no matter how safe he felt he had been, she had not known what he had done the last times they slept together. He had removed her element of
choice with regards to taking risks with her own body. And for that, as well as everything else, he felt guilty.
It was clear to Abby that he felt uncomfortable; it was strange but his nervous fidgeting made her feel strangely bolder, braver even. Maybe it was occupying the upper moral ground in the situation, maybe it was simply seeing him squirm. Whatever it was she seemed to be feeding off it and was surprised by the way she managed to control her mind and stay calm.
With some tests being gender specific and because of their private nature, they were to go in separately. As Simon was called first he gave Abby’s hand a squeeze before he left the waiting area. When Abby’s turn came she followed the nurse into a side room, where she had to answer a few questions regarding her sexual history – one of which asked if she had participated in sexual relations with partners outside of the UK. She answered but felt cold at the realisation that Simon’s answer would be different to her own. As her own sexual history shed no light as to why she felt the need to attend the clinic she then had to reveal that her husband had had an affair. It was odd how saying it to this stranger somehow made her feel like a failure, like she hadn’t kept him happy – that she wasn’t good enough. It was the only part of the experience she found degrading.
As the nurse went about her business she was calm and reassuring. In Abby’s opinion the tests required nothing more intrusive than having a smear, though she did wish she had worn a skirt because her revelations about her husband had made her feel exposed enough before she was asked to take off her jeans. As she lay on the bed trying hard not to tense up, the nurse looked at her.
“You know, for men these tests require a urethral swab – pop some cotton buds on the bathroom side, even the memory will make his eyes water,” she said with a wink, and Abby couldn’t help but giggle.
At the end of it all Simon and Abby left with the knowledge that they would receive a text with their results. A text! How very blasé is that?!