Façades

by Cynthia Lindenmayer

  Nevertheless, faced with the apparent strength of her declaration that their liaison must end, he had accepted Megan’s invitation with some faint hope that any re-kindling of their relationship might assist him to overcome his addiction to Simone. Ostensibly, the invitation had been proffered in order to enable him and Megan to discuss the strategy to be adopted in a case on which they had been collaborating, and also to give him an opportunity to remove, from her apartment, the last vestiges of their former intimate relationship. But he wondered whether Megan might have, as an ulterior motive, the desire to regenerate, in some measure, their previous sexual intimacy.

  When she opened her apartment door to him, Megan presented an image of relaxed vitality and unselfconscious beauty, with which he was totally familiar. She seemed unaware of how ravishing she looked, dressed in a simple pair of crisp, white shorts, and a sky-blue, short sleeved blouse, with a pair of comfortable, casual sandals on her feet. The sight of her, framed in the light of the open doorway, was enough to momentarily take away the breath of any virile young man, but Teale had become so besotted with Simone that he failed to notice it.

  Megan brushed his cheek gently with her soft lips, as he took off his jacket and hung it from a hook on the hat stand just inside the door. She immediately handed him a stiff drink of his favourite bourbon and ice, before returning to the kitchen where she picked up a glass of her favourite chardonnay, and touched her glass gently to his before taking a sip of her wine. The delicious aroma of roasting meat, mingled with the scent of freshly chopped basil and oregano, wafted through the living area of the apartment, as they sat at the bench that divided the kitchen from the dining room to savour their drinks.

  Megan was immediately aware that Teale was distracted, and raised an eyebrow, but without commenting, when he quickly tossed off his drink and moved to the far end of the bench to help himself to another generous helping from the bottle standing there. She attempted, then, to draw him out with a few comments about her day, and some questions about his, to all of which he paid only scant attention, answering her in perfunctory monosyllables. After very little time, he helped himself to a third drink, an unfamiliar action which caused Megan some concern, and led her to hasten the presentation of the meal.

  During the meal, Teale made an effort to be more communicative, complementing Megan on her cooking, and speaking a little about the case on which he and she had been collaborating. But it was clear to her that he was really just going through the motions, and that he was drinking much more of the red wine she had served than she was accustomed to seeing him do. Before the meal was completed, he was beginning to lose both his physical co-ordination and control of his speech, which was becoming more and more slurred.

  At last she could contain herself no longer, and addressed him, directly and firmly, but not angrily.

  “Teale, you’re drinking too much. That’s not like you. Have you been dumped by your new lover?”

  Despite his intoxication, Teale was brought up short by the directness of her enquiry.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, after a brief silence, before reaching for the wine bottle to replenish his glass yet again.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” responded Megan. “We’ve been going together long enough for me to be able to read you like a book. I’m well aware that only another woman could have come between us and caused you to break off with me. And you forget, I know exactly what it’s like to be dumped by a lover, and your behaviour tonight paints a very clear picture. I even know who your new lover is!”

  “What? How could you know that? I don’t believe you!” replied Teale, draining his glass of wine in two gulps.

  “Like I just said. I can read you like a book. I saw how you were transfixed, at your uncle Harold’s party, by that woman, Simone. I also then saw you disappear with her for a time, and the guilty looks on both your faces when you reappeared. I can’t say for sure I know what went on, but I think it’s pretty obvious. She scooted off pretty quickly after that, and you practically went into a trance.”

  “I don’ ‘ave to, and I don’ wanna discuss this now. Thanksh for dinner. I’m goin’ ome.”

  So saying, Teale staggered to his feet and made for the front door, his gait very unsteady. As he attempted to retrieve his jacket from the hat stand, he clumsily dragged at it without lifting it clear of the hook, with the result that the whole stand came crashing down, and he fell over on top of it.

  Megan hurried to help him up.

  “You can’t go home in that state,” she chided, as he clambered back to his feet, leaning heavily on her. “You can sleep on the sofa in the lounge tonight, and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  He surrendered to her, and allowed himself to be steered into the lounge room, where he collapsed onto the sofa, and, almost instantaneously, fell asleep.

  As she looked down on his dishevelled face and body, Megan felt a hollowness in the pit of her stomach. It pained her to see the confident, sophisticated man she had come to love, reduced to such a decrepit state. She instantly felt a strong hatred for the woman responsible for his transformation, and vowed to do her best to rehabilitate him and to regain his love.

  In the course of tidying up the disarray caused by Teale’s attempted departure, Megan picked up his jacket to re-hang it on a coat hanger. As she did so, his mobile phone fell out of a pocket. She was about to replace it when, guiltily, she opened it and began to scroll through his saved contact numbers. The only one without an identifying name beside it was a number identified only by a series of exclamation marks, which she instinctively knew to be that of his secret lover. She carefully made a note of that number, before returning his phone to the pocket of his jacket.

  Teale awoke early next morning, with a throbbing head, a dry mouth, and feelings of remorse for his behaviour towards Megan the previous night. He feigned sleep for a while, when he heard her moving around the apartment, but the enticing aroma of freshly brewing coffee soon began to tempt him to stir. But, before he could bring himself to rise from the couch to face her, she brought him a large tumbler of water and two Panadeine tablets.

  “I’m sure you need these this morning,” she said, brusquely. “You’d better get up then. I’ve made coffee, and we need to talk.”

  After taking the proffered medication, with a mumbled “Thanks”, he rose, unsteadily, and shuffled his way out to the kitchen, where he slumped into a chair at the table opposite Megan. He gratefully accepted the strong, black coffee she poured for him, with another grunted “Thanks,” and gave her a very sheepish look.

  After a few minutes of silence, during which they both sipped at their coffee, and Megan eyed him off, while he tried to keep his eyes averted from hers, she spoke again.

  “When you fucked that cougar, Simone, did you have enough sense to use protection?” she demanded, icily.

  “No,” he whispered, after a long pause, and with his eyes riveted to the coffee cup in front of him.

  “Well, that’s just bloody brilliant!” she seethed. “Thanks very much! You’ve put me at risk by fucking me as soon as I arrived home. How did you meet the bitch, anyway?”

  “She came to my place as an IT professional. And she’s not a bitch.”

  “That’s debatable. And how many other blokes has she fucked? Or how many other women has her husband fucked, for that matter?”

  Teale did not respond to those questions, but continued to study his coffee cup.

  “I want you to have a blood test, and give me the results,” she demanded.

  “And what about you?” responded Teale, defensively. “You’ve just been away overseas for six weeks. I don’t know what you’ve been doing.”

  “Fine!” she replied, barely containing her anger. “We’ll both get tested together, and exchange the results. Satisfied?”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t need to,” relented Teale, feeling guilty at his implication.

  “Yes I do,” insisted Megan. “If you have got someth
ing, the sooner I know whether you’ve passed it on to me the better.”

  “OK,” yielded Teale, with a sigh. Then, after a brief pause, he lifted his eyes to meet hers, and reached out, tentatively, to touch her gently on the hand, which she instantly withdrew from his reach.

  “I’m so sorry, Megan,” he pleaded. “I just hate what’s happening to us.”

  “Whose fault is that?” she asked, bitterly.

  “I know. It’s all my fault. But, I want you to know I still love you. I don’t know if I love her, but she’s got under my skin, somehow, and I know I’m no good to anyone else until I can get her out of my system.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that I’d still want you, even if you did,” lied Megan, ignoring the ache she felt in her chest at the thought of losing him forever. “You can take the rest of your gear when you go. I’ll ring you when I’ve made the appointments for the tests.”

  The two sat in silence, then while they finished their coffee, each straining to hold back the tears that threatened to engulf them.

  CHAPTER 16

  The following Sunday night, before retiring to her bed, Simone lay stretched out on her favourite lazy-boy on the balcony outside her bedroom, contemplating the events of the past week, and anticipating those of the week ahead. In addition to the trauma surrounding the attack on Gai, with its implications for Sasha, as a potential victim, the other event that still stood out in her mind was the chance meeting with Teale outside the Courthouse, which had led to Sasha’s impulsive invitation of him to dinner at their home. That was an event that she contemplated with very mixed emotions.

  On the one hand, she experienced a rising sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again at close quarters, but, on the other, she dreaded the possibilities for exposure, embarrassment and catastrophe that would be presented by his close presence under her roof, and under the scrutiny of her husband and children. Those possibilities seemed likely to be magnified by Sasha’s obvious intention to flirt outrageously with him, unaware of the existence and of the explosive nature of the emotions that such behaviour might inadvertently unleash. She tried to steel herself to maintain a façade of polite indifference to Teale, and to Sasha’s anticipated flirting with him, but she feared that, under the pressure of his closeness, and her own suppressed emotions, that façade might crack, and expose her innermost secrets to Lee and her children.

  With those troublesome thoughts bouncing around in her head, Simone decided to go to bed, and read a book, in an effort to switch off before attempting to sleep. As she rose from her lazy-boy, and turned towards her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of a figure, which she was sure was that of her neighbour, George, standing at his window, looking out towards her. She resisted the temptation to wave derisively at him, before disappearing into her bedroom.

  Sasha skipped, excitedly, into her mother’s bedroom, just as Simone was putting the finishing touches to her hair. Sasha was attractively dressed, in a bright yellow one-shoulder mini-dress, with matching strappy sandals. Her now very short, dyed, dark-brown hair, was neatly arranged around her face to show off her pretty features to best effect. Large, hooped, silver earrings dangled almost to her shoulders, catching and reflecting the light with every excited movement of her head.

  “How do I look, Mum?” she asked, at the same time eyeing her reflection in Simone’s dressing-table mirror.

  “You look stunning, dear,” replied Simone, striving desperately not to display the sharp twinge of jealousy she felt at her daughter’s obvious intention and desire to look as attractive as possible for their intended guest, her secret lover.

  Simone had deliberately chosen to tone down her own appearance for this potentially explosive evening. She was wearing a pair of plain, slightly faded blue jeans, with a simple red blouse, and with beige sneakers on her feet. Despite her efforts to minimize her sex appeal, she still looked vibrantly attractive.

  The two were soon joined by Delia, who sauntered casually into the room. In marked contrast to her sister, she was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, with wide cuffs, button-up pockets at the back, and unfastened, deep pockets on the sides. On her feet she wore lace-up leather boots, with ankle length socks. Her top was a simple, white T-shirt. Unlike her sister and mother, she wore no makeup, but still bore all her facial piercings.

  “Are you wearing that for dinner?” asked Sasha, a strong note of incredulity in her voice.

  “Why not?” she replied. “I’m not trying to crack onto this bloke. But, I must say, I’m very curious to see him, after all the trouble you’ve gone to in preparation.”

  Simone left her two contrasting daughters, then, to descend to the kitchen to check on the meal in the process of cooking there. As she inspected each dish to ensure it was not over cooking, she found her stomach churning, not from the smell of the food, but from anxiety. She knew Teale’s arrival was imminent, and with each passing moment her level of anxiety increased. She had hoped that he might make an excuse, and cancel, thus relieving them both of the burden of pretence they would be obliged to maintain in the presence of her family. But it was obviously too late for that, now. She could not quite understand why he had not. She felt she was about to be drawn into a game of Russian roulette, in which the odds were heavily stacked against her.

  These thoughts were interrupted, then, by the sound of the doorbell, which caused her heart to skip a beat, and her hands to shake as she tried to stir the contents of one of the pots simmering on the range.

  “I’ll get it,” came Lee’s voice from the TV room, followed closely by the sound of Sasha’s sandals clattering noisily down the stairs. Lee reached the door a step or two ahead of his exuberant daughter. He opened it to reveal Teale, holding a bottle of wine, and a box of chocolates. He handed the wine to Lee, while Sasha took the chocolates from his hand with a gushing, “Oh! Chocolates! How lovely! I adore chocolates.”

  As he entered the vestibule, Teale’s eyes darted about in search of Simone, who remained discreetly out of sight in the kitchen. He mumbled, “Good evening” to Lee, and then, “Thank you for welcoming me to your home.” He gave Sasha a nervous smile, as she took the chocolates, which he had hoped to hand to Simone. He had deliberately chosen the same expensive Belgian liqueur chocolates that he and she had sometimes shared at his apartment, after sex, and which he knew she loved.

  Before the trio had advanced very far towards the living room, where Lee was leading their guest, Delia joined them from the stairs. When Lee introduced her to Teale, she gave him a firm hand-shake, and commented, “Ah, Teale. I’ve heard lots about you,” at the same time giving Sasha a mischievous look. Her sister responded by giving her a surreptitious elbow in the ribs, and a quick scowl.

  As the four entered the living room, Delia excused herself, saying that she was going to help her mother in the kitchen.

  “I hope your mother hasn’t gone to too much trouble on my account,” said Teale, still looking about for Simone.

  “Oh, no,” replied Sasha. “Hannah prepared it all in advance. All Mum’s had to do is heat it up.”

  Lee, embarrassed by his daughter’s frankness, quickly offered Teale a drink, which he gratefully accepted. He felt the need of something to settle his nerves.

  “I hope you won’t mind my picking your brain a bit, later on,” said Lee, as they settled over their drinks. “I have a few legal issues I need to clarify about a humanitarian project I’ve become involved in.”

  In the kitchen, Simone asked Delia to take some hors d’oeuvres into the living room. Then, she poured herself a shot of bourbon, which she tossed off quickly, before joining the others there.

  On entering the living room, Simone immediately felt Teale’s eyes burning into her body, but she willed herself not to respond to his longing gaze. At the same time, she realized that to completely ignore their guest would have been so uncharacteristic of her as to immediately raise Lee’s suspicions, or at least cause him to later quiz her about her unusual rudeness. So, she felt c
ompelled to try to play the gracious hostess, but without giving any hint of her underlying feelings for their guest, and without giving him any encouragement to display his own feelings towards her. This she found to be an extremely difficult task.

  She began by offering to top up his drink, and doing the same, immediately, for Lee, before offering hors d’oeuvres to both, in turn. It was all she could do not to reciprocate the hungry look he gave her, as their eyes met, briefly, over the hors d’oeuvres tray. She made a conscious effort to think about the state of preparation of the food in the kitchen, so as to ward off the quickening of her pulse, which she felt might initiate a tell-tale flush, as his hand passed close to hers. She even found herself becoming a little cross with him for so blatantly staring at her, even when responding, half-heartedly, to some comment or question from Lee or Sasha.

  As Sasha and Lee tried to engage Teale in conversation, and Simone tried to maintain her balancing act, Delia sat off, aloof from the rest, feverishly texting on her mobile phone.

  After some polite, but fairly stilted conversation about Harold and Emily’s overseas trip, and Teale’s work as a barrister, Simone suggested to Lee and Sasha that they take Teale into the dining room, and take their places at the table. Then, turning to Delia, she said, “For goodness sake, Delia! Put away that phone and come and help me to bring out the serving dishes from the kitchen.”

  During all this, Teale had found himself unable to take his eyes off Simone, and he had difficulty concentrating on what Lee and Sasha were saying to him. Their voices seemed to drone in his head, as if from afar, while Simone’s smallest remark was as clear as crystal to his eager ear.

  Intellectually, he knew that his behaviour might appear unusual to others. Here was he, a young, single man whom many would regard as quite sophisticated, being flirted with by a young, attractive, single woman not much younger than himself, yet he had eyes only for her mother, in circumstances where such attention might well create conflict within that mother’s family, and trouble for himself. In addition, he had recently terminated a most satisfying relationship with another young, beautiful, intelligent woman, on account of his growing obsession with, and unquenchable desire for this same older, married woman. Yet he knew that he could not control the emotional forces within him which compelled him to lust after this mature woman who, to his eye, oozed confidence, charm and sexuality from every pore of her highly desirable body.