by Zita Weber
Work has picked up again, as it always does this time of year and I might be in with a chance of a promotion. How about that? I hope you’re not working too hard, although with a new baby, I suppose you must be, because from what I’ve heard, Lena is a lazy bitch (this of course, is only rumour). Anyway, I must sign off now. I thought it would be nice and civilised if we could be friends even though we’re not together anymore.
lots of love
Tina
P.S. I’ll let you know if I get the promotion and maybe we can have drinks to celebrate.
Dear Tina,
Thanks for your long and chatty letter. At first, I wasn’t sure about the tone of the letter. It seemed confused and angry, but on reading it a second time, I realised it was giving you the opportunity to say things to me that you couldn’t when we last saw one another. In that sense, I think you did the right thing by writing me the letter, because you showed insight and the process of putting pen to paper and getting things off your chest was a form of therapy for you. I did think your attempt at jokes was pathetic, but on reflection, you probably needed to say those things.
I was heartened to hear that you have Anna looking after you – she’s a really good sport. As for your work, I’ve also heard a rumour that you’re destined for bigger things. Why don’t you give me a call at work and we’ll organise something. I’ll let my receptionist know that I’m expecting a call from you. It would be great to see you again and have a chat. Like you said, there’s no reason we can’t be friends. Maybe we can talk about how I can help you with your future.
Yours
Ted
Reflections
She had become a regular. She reckoned there were about twenty of them. Familiar faces and even more familiar bodies.
In the beginning she had felt self-conscious. Could that have been only three months ago? As she contemplated her reflection she could barely believe how much progress she had made. She rippled a bicep as she lifted the two kilogram weight and smiled at her vanity.
She went four or five times a week. Lately, she had begun to feel gulty when she missed a class or did not have the time (or was it the discipline?) to do her weights program.
‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Michael said. `You looked perfectly alright before – besides, I don’t like too much muscle on a woman. It’s unnatural.’
‘I suppose you think fat and flabby is natural?’ He had a lot of arguments against exercise. Perhaps that was because he intended to remain complacent and slide comfortably into middle-aged paunch.
‘Too much exercise is a massive assault on the human skeleton.’
‘What’s wrong with normal everyday exercise? I walk up and down stairs at work.’
‘Exercising is a bore, and it weakens the ligaments and joints.’
He had a point. Keeping fit had become a cultural obsession. Body sculpting had taken on near religious proportions. Everywhere she looked, fit and fabulous bodies surrounded her with their promise that everyone could look that good.
She knew she could never remotely resemble the goddesses on the billboards and in the magazines. But she persisted. It was narcissistic yet appealing. She looked at herself often, sucking in her tummy, pushing back her shoulders, getting the right line. To be sinewy, like a Masai warrior with ridges of muscle outlined against the skin was the ultimate aim.
But Michael was right when he said, ‘Look – it’s more dignified to grow old gracefully. Just accept the changes and you won’t get depressed.’ Such homespun philosophy irritated her. Yet the harsh fluorescent light above the change-room mirror told her he might be right. She could see the fine mesh of lines around her eyes and the slackening of the flesh around her jaw-line.
In her twenties, she had paraded shamelessly at countless parties, her slinky short dresses and skin-tight jeans tempting eyes and libidos. She had been lovely, with deep blue eyes and long honey-blonde hair. Lovers were treated capriciously, as she juggled them to meet her needs. She recalled how she had decided to hold out for something special. Did she have it? Was it enough?
Fifteen years later, her options had narrowed. One professional husband, one adorable child and living in a beautiful home in the suburbs – well, wasn’t that everyone’s dream?
As she pulled on her tights, she noticed the broken veins on her legs. Her observation was noted by another regular who commented, ‘Don’t worry about those small spider veins, a beautician can give you treatment for that.’
Is that what she needed? Treatment for her veins? She doubted it. Her friend Fiona, had told her that wrinkles and veins were the insignia of age, but she wasn’t sure of that theory. Fiona, the eternally youthful, athletic, lithe, elegant and supportive friend. Next to Fiona, she felt Amazonian. It had been Fiona who suggested she join a health club to ‘tone up’.
Most of the men at the club were attractive. The one who looked like a Greek God was special. He had a powerful build, broad shoulders, strong arms and a small bottom. His hair was a dark curly mess. She told Fiona about him.
‘I think you fancy him Linda,’ Fiona had replied.
‘He is the most divine man I’ve ever seen, but I didn’t say I wanted to screw him,’ she retorted.
Her irritation alarmed her. She told herself she never thought about having an affair or even a fling, not seriously. But was her body language giving out subliminal messages?
One day the Greek God flashed a wide smile and greeted her. She admitted to herself that she was flattered.
As she watched her reflection perform a leg curl, she noticed he was watching. Big strides brought him to her side and she was aware of his body standing over her.
‘Hi. I’m Brett. I’ve seen you here a lot.’
As she nodded and smiled, she was aware he was scrutinizing her.
‘You know, you’d get more out of that exercise if you pressed the back of your knees into the bench.’
There was no doubting his earnestness. The wide mirrors reflected their images and she thought what a handsome couple they appeared.
She wondered what he would be like as a lover. Although she thought it silly, she began to weave daydreams around him. The Mrs. Robinson complex is how she humorously described her reveries to Fiona.
One day he waited for her in the foyer.
`Look, I wondered if you had time for a coffee?’
He took her by the arm and steered her across to the coffee shop. Sitting opposite her he talked quickly, mostly about himself.
`I’m in training, you know. It’s hard work but what the hell – it’ll all be worth it in the end.’ He had ordered a thick-shake, which he sucked on loudly.
‘I’ve noticed how far you’ve come along. It takes a bit of effort but look at the results.’
She felt herself colouring, feeling strangely victorious in the face of his compliment.
‘Maybe I can help you work on your program – get you some quicker results.’
He seemed incapable of sitting still. Massaging his arms and rotating his shoulders to loosen muscles, he continued his non-stop talk.
Her fantasies of the shy, sensitive, intuitive man he might have been receded. She couldn’t help smiling at her folly.
He leaned across and looked her straight in the eye.
‘I thought you might like some company now and then. Know what I mean?’
She returned his direct gaze. Standing up, she moved across to him and put a hand on his powerful bicep.
‘Thanks. But I’m on a tight schedule. I have to pick up the twins.’
She laughed loudly as she walked across the car park. His inoffensive comment implied his body was something special, something for which she might be grateful.
‘What a pity he’s just a pretty face,’ she said out loudly to herself.
She would have given her eyeteeth to see that expression on his face again.
Suspicion: 1978 style
Sally thanked the operator and looked at the number she had jotted down on
the pad next to the phone. It had been easy. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? The idea had come to her in the shower that morning. She had read somewhere that creative thoughts come to you when you least expect them. How true this had been in her case.
Kevin had only referred to his personal assistant by her first name and Sally had been cautious about appearing too curious, or worse still, suspicious. But she now knew the name of the other woman in Kevin’s life. `The other woman’ she repeated out loud to herself and gave a mirthless laugh.
With mixed feelings she had dialed Kevin’s work number knowing she would hear his receptionist’s voice. Her plan had worked beautifully. Muffling her voice, she mumbled uncharacteristically, asking for his personal assistant. On cue, the receptionist replied cheerfully, ‘Oh, you must be after Judy Spring’, and Sally hung up. What a name! It sounded too young and joyful, probably just the way Judy was, thought Sally bitterly.
The day had dragged terribly, but it was now 7 p.m. and Sally was psyching herself up. She paced the living room, too excited to sit down. She stood by the window for a moment, staring down at the street below. The people walking along the pavement looked tiny, insignificant, almost like ants from where she was standing. They were people she didn’t know, whose lives would never touch hers, people who lived and laughed, ate, drank and made love. But they weren’t suffering as she now suffered at the thought of her husband in another’s woman’s arms.
‘Settle down Sally!’ she told herself. She recognised the hysteria which lay just below the surface of her mind. She suddenly felt the pain of her tapered red fingernails digging into the palm of her hands. But the pain was nothing compared with her jealousy. It confused her, tormented her, and consumed her. Jealousy now made the blood pump furiously in her forehead. She would take aspirins later. Right now, she needed a drink and then she would ring.
She downed the cocktail too quickly, but felt a rush of confidence with the act. She was ready. There was no need to refer to the message pad. She knew the number. With trembling fingers she dialed and got a wrong number. She laughed nervously as someone from Chan’s Restaurant answered. This time with meticulous care she dialed again.
‘568-000. Hello?’ said a female voice at the other end. It was a husky, educated voice. Sally caught her breath.
‘Can Kevin Wilson take a personal call from London?’ Sally was pleased with her accent, which could well belong to a London telephone operator. She had chosen London because Kevin’s sister lived there.
‘Please hold on,’ came the reply.
Sally could hear her breath coming faster as she heard the other woman’s voice, `Kevin – call for you from London.’
There was no need for her to hear his voice. She knew he was there, and with her. But Sally hung on to hear his calm voice identifying himself, `Kevin Wilson speaking.’
Momentarily she was lost for words. Then she heard herself speaking in a cool voice, a voice which didn’t betray the intense emotional reaction his voice evoked.
‘Hello Kevin. I’m ringing to make sure you’re there.’
‘What the hell ... Sally! It is you isn’t it?’ He sounded surprised – and guilty.
‘Yes, it’s me. Goodbye Kevin,’ and she hung up before he could say any more. Sinking into the couch, Sally became aware of sweat breaking out all over her skin. She had taken the fatal step. But what lay ahead?
The shrill ring of the telephone jolted her back to reality. She knew it was Kevin and let it ring itself into silence. He would want to ‘talk about it’ and she was not ready, not just yet.
Her mind took her back over the weeks of torment, of doubt, of watching Kevin, observing his behaviour and judging his words. Becoming more and more certain, she was never quite sure. Until now.
Sally had seen a pattern emerging over the course of Kevin’s present affair. Yes, it had happened before, but Kevin had denied it and on that occasion, she had no concrete evidence. But Sally had lived through Kevin coming home late from the office, Kevin needing to go away for week-end conferences, and Kevin keeping to his side of the bed, finding stupid excuses to avoid touching her until their sex life was virtually non-existent. This time she strongly suspected ‘another woman’ and now it had been confirmed.
`Sally, you’re being silly’, Diane, her best friend had admonished her. ‘He’s a great guy and just because he can’t include you in every little thing in his life, you’re jealous. You can’t possess a man – and you’ll lose him one of these days if you keep up your suspicion of him. Look, stop imagining things!’ Diane had said sternly.
Sally bit her lip as she recalled how Diane had allayed her anxieties, yet her suspicion had built steadily over the weeks. If she hadn’t taken Diane’s advice, the affair might have been nipped in the bud. Yes, she should have spoken to Kevin much earlier. But would that have provided the proof of what she knew in her heart? Sally somehow doubted it.
‘Look, you know Kevin has to have a personal assistant and you know she has to be reasonably good-looking, because she often has to deal with the clients in the first instance. Sally, you must stop doubting him – just because he likes her and gets on well with her doesn’t mean he’s screwing her – he has to maintain a good relationship with her because they have to work closely. This isn’t the first time, remember how embarrassed you were when you made that scene over the Swedish woman on vacation last summer? And what about your suspicion that Kevin was having it off with his receptionist? Admit you were wrong, and don’t make a fool of yourself or him over these petty jealousies. Forget it all Sally, it’s nonsense,’ Diane had lectured her at length.
‘Huh,’ Sally uttered out loudly to herself, ‘How wrong Diane can be – but I knew it all along,’ she added bitterly. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing telephone. This time she lifted the receiver.
‘Sally? Look, honey, I’m almost out of my mind. I rang five minutes ago, but there was no answer. Are you alright?’
‘Of course, what do you think I was doing? Slashing my wrists?’
‘Don’t talk like that Sally. I know things look bad, but it’s not as it appears, really. Trust me. I’m coming home right now to explain – Sally, are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m still here, more fool me.’
‘Well, I thought we’d been cut off...’, his voice trailed and he sounded tired and was it unsure of himself? And most definitely guilty. Yes, she was listening to the voice of a guilty man.
‘Honey, let’s just get one thing straight. I love you and only you, right?’
‘I bet that’s what you tell all the girls,’ Sally said bitterly and hung up on him.
Her head was spinning and it still throbbed. Instead of taking aspirin, she poured herself a very generous measure of brandy. The warmth of the drink stimulated not only her body but also her thoughts. How could Kevin be so charming and caring with her one minute, then hurtful the other? He had always been a flowers-and-chocolates man – maybe that was his way of worming himself further into her affections, while he cast around looking for another, newer liaison. What did it say about her? She tried desperately to remember what all the women’s magazines say about infidelity and why some men stray. Was she too worn and tired looking? Was she unadventurous in bed? Only days earlier she had read an article on affairs, which gave the silly advice that the woman should keep quiet about her suspicion, and then forgive and forget. What a lot of nonsense! How could any self-respecting woman stand idly by when the man she loves holds another woman in his arms?
‘Sally, honey,’ came Kevin’s smooth voice from the doorway.
She was so immersed in thought she hadn’t heard his key in the lock. He stood in the doorway, looking at her, searching her face, trying to judge her mood? He moved to the bar and made himself a drink. She watched him move and marvelled at how he seemed so calm, so unaltered.
‘Sally, you’re being silly again. There’s nothing between Judy and me. We’re not lovers as you seem to think, and that’s the t
ruth!’
Sally looked into his eyes, but it was hard for her to make out what she saw there. She sighed deeply and resigned herself to more denials and yes, more lies.
‘Don’t treat me like a fool,’ she shot an angry look in his direction. ‘You’ve been screwing the pants off Judy for weeks. You thought I wouldn’t suspect, but I did. You were spending far too many nights working late at the office.’
‘I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but I was working on an important deal. Judy is my assistant, as you know, and tonight I called by her apartment to collect a file she’d taken home with her. Look, I was going to ring you from her place and tell you I was there and would be a little late.’
‘Would you really have rung me? I bet you didn’t expect to hear from me!’ Sally said with triumph.
Suddenly Kevin looked tired and nervous. He sat down in the armchair opposite Sally.
‘Okay. Maybe I wouldn’t have called to say I’d been delayed, but you have to believe I was at Judy’s just to pick up the file. Look, here it is, in my briefcase.’
Sally rolled her eyes heavenwards which annoyed Kevin, whose voice became more irritated.
‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I love you. You’ll have to get over that crazy idea of yours that I married you for your money. Okay, it helped buy the apartment and the partnership, but it’s for us both. I’m committed to you, and you know it. But, I don’t know how long I can take your suspicion. You torture yourself and me and it’s all nonsense. Besides, I’ve never given you any cause to suspect me.’
‘It’s little things Kevin, you don’t pay as much attention to me as you used to...’ her voice trailed away.
‘Sally, you know I’m busy, I’m preoccupied – give me a chance. Once things settle down and this deal goes through, I promise I’ll be your knight-in-shining armor.’