I feel strong suddenly and I have no idea why.
‘I bet you’re not,’ he pants out the words. He is struggling to hold it together, the white of his knuckles tells me.
‘Not ideal, Ali, for a married mother of two to be sending half-naked pictures to the object of her fantasy, is it really?’ His face contorts with sarcasm.
‘It’s not. It’s definitely not,’ I agree.
‘And now?’
I realise that he now knows I’m not afraid any more. Without the children in the same house I’m not afraid of a row. In fact, I’m going to say every damn thing I have ever wanted. I part my fingers and slide them through my side fringe.
‘And now I don’t know,’ I say.
‘Do you want to be with him?’
‘No.’ I am definite about that.
And I don’t.
God, I know that sounds insane. I knew it the instant I got into the car with Corina at Dublin airport. I can’t explain it – it just wasn’t there any more. That feeling. Those emotions. They were gone. Owen had been my waking thought for months. He had made my blood rush and my feelings seemed so true, so real. What I thought I felt for him was an illusion, a fantasy, an escape from my suffocating marriage. None of it was real. It was all make-believe, my invention. And also Owen was never going to settle down and be part of the life of a woman with two children. I get that. It was always only going to be an affair. A dirty affair.
‘So what is it you do want here?’ he asks now, straight to the point.
‘I want a separation … for a while … some space, Colin.’
Didn’t realise I wanted that till this moment.
He rests his hand on his chin covering his dimple.
‘Is that what you really want?’ I can actually hear him swallow.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘You want me to move out of my own house?’ His tongue sits between his teeth.
‘Probably for the best, just until we see where we go from here.’
‘You’re an unfit mother, Ali.’ His eyes are dark.
‘That’s not true,’ I tell him.
He scoffs, ‘I think the facts speak for themselves; oh, and the picture evidence.’ He snorts.
‘I made a mistake.’
‘Why was he in your hotel room then?’ he hisses at me.
I sigh. How can I say this to my husband?
‘Why was he in your room, Ali?’ he probes again, teeth slightly clenched.
‘Because I thought I was going to have sex with him and I very nearly did.’
He throws the chair he has been clutching across the room and it bashes into a shelf and topples plant pots shattering to the floor.
‘All OK?’ Corina stands at the door, her face flushed, mobile phone in her hand.
‘What’s it to do with you?’ Colin turns on poor Corina.
‘Well, actually, now that you ask, this is my home you’re wrecking, Colin Devlin, and I’d be very happy to press charges against you: you smashed my phone and intimated me.’ She stands tall and waves the phone in the air.
‘What are you?’ He looks her up and down with disgust. She is wearing her funny pink onesie with smiley emoticons, her lounge wear.
‘What am I?’ She moves in. ‘I’m a woman, Colin, a woman whose home you are standing in. I’m a friend of Ali’s, now you show me some respect.’ Corina’s face is thunderous.
‘Just because you can’t get a bloke you don’t want anyone else’s relationships to work out. I know your sort, I have had you pegged from the very beginning!’
‘As a matter of fact, Colin, I have stood up for you. I understand how hard and hurtful this all must be for you, so I’m to ignore your insults and accusations for now.’
He turns to me. ‘I can’t talk with her here. I’ll text you later.’ He turns and leaves.
‘Colin! I want to see my kids!’ I scream after him.
‘They are in town. We’ll arrange that later.’ He strides away through the front room, opens the front door, beeps his car, gets in and skids out of Corina’s driveway.
I sit slowly. ‘If he shows Jade that picture of me, I … I just know she’ll never speak to me again.’ Tears roll down my face again now.
‘He won’t,’ Corina says. ‘He’s really angry, Ali, really angry. Even though I know he knows nothing happened, he’s angry you don’t seem to love him any more. Did you see the way he looked at me when I said I’d stood up for him, a flicker of hope? As much as it pains me to say this after the way he’s treated you, after the way he just spoke to me, I think you need to kill that anger with kindness.’
I can’t believe I just said all that to him. But more than that I can’t believe how OK I feel about it. It feels like a lead weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I never once thought I wanted to end my marriage, I’m still not sure, but those words just flooded out of me. My phone beeps.
I’m not moving out of my house. I will move into the spare boxroom tomorrow. Please don’t come back until Monday evening. I need to think. I will drop the kids to school and see you back here at teatime.
‘He wants to move into the box room and for me to come home Monday after work,’ I tell Corina.
‘Baby steps.’ Corina sounds more confident than she looks but she has said her piece.
‘Baby steps …’ I say and I tap back the words:
OK, see you then.
‘I think it is wine o’clock, my friend?’ Corina says stretching.
‘Wine o’clock,’ I agree.
I wholeheartedly agree.
18
Saturday early evening. Corina’s house. South Circular Road. Dublin 8.
Corina and I are sitting on the couch, feet tucked under us, drinking wine and watching Bridesmaids. Corina’s phone rings.
‘Oh my good God … it’s Owen O’Neill!’ she informs me, her face suddenly flushed.
‘Answer it!’ I say, as she mutes the TV, her mouth bobbing like a fish.
‘Hi, Owen,’ she says and I see her nod and nod.
‘OK, sure … Yeah, sure … She is … She’s here, actually … Do you … No? OK … Yeah … OK … Oh, right … OK … I will … Oh, you are? … I’ll tell her that … That’s great news … I will … OK … Talk to you then, bye-bye-bye-bye. Bye.’
She looks at me clutching the phone in her fist now.
‘He was just asking about me helping him with his art exhibition.’ But she looks embarrassed.
‘He didn’t want to speak to me?’ I say.
‘No. He’s just in out-patients, said he thinks it’s for the best if you guys don’t have any communication for a while … and he said to tell you his hand will mend.’
He is right, of course he is. The funny thing is, if he came to me on bended knee declaring his undying love, I’d have no interest.
What was I thinking?
Why didn’t I seduce Colin that night and ask him could we do counselling about my job? Nicely tell him about Nancy Farrell and Kitty Tead and James Rafter of the Steffi Street gang? I wonder what will happen with my job. I’m going in on Monday to find out, that’s for sure.
‘Are you meeting him?’ I ask her.
‘No … I won’t …’ Her red hair flops around her head, she’s shaking so wildly.
‘Why? Hey, he’s single, he’d be a great catch! He really likes you.’ I laugh. I actually laugh.
‘You’re not serious?’ Corina holds her wine glass by the stem and stares at me.
‘What?’
‘You think I could be with the type of guy who thinks it’s OK to seduce and drug an unhappily married woman?’
‘Ah, come on, that’s not fair … he’s not like that.’
‘That’s what it looks like to me.’
‘It takes two to tango,’ I repeat his words.
And a bigger person to walk away.
‘Please, Corina, work with him, for me? He has some amazing pieces all ready to go while his hand heals. Help him put on a small kickass exhibi
tion of his work? He didn’t ask for any of this, I promise you that, and when I pushed him away after leading him on, he was so, so understanding … He’s one of the good guys.’
‘Hmmm, I might take a bit more convincing … but OK. We were texting about it before all this shit went down … I’ll work with him on his expo, but just for you.’ She winks at me.
Maybe she’s right. As wrong as I was, he was in the wrong too but I think he deserves to be forgiven.
‘Can we go out, Corina? Can we go for a Chinese and a bottle of wine?’ I ask suddenly.
‘OMG! I’m starving out of my tiny brain! Yes, of course! Trevorweight will have to remain, I’m gonna pig the hell out!’ She is delighted but pauses for a second before saying quietly, ‘Will you hop into the shower before we go?’
‘Do I smell again?’ I gasp lifting my arms.
She draws a gap between her index finger and thumb.
‘A smidgen,’ she smiles.
‘Shit … sorry, I was sweating profusely again with Colin here. I’m like a stinking sweat machine. Yes, OK, I will.’
I stand under the boiling hot jets and rub fresh-smelling apricot body wash all over me.
I can’t change anything. I have to accept things and I will not lose my children.
I step out and dry off. I open Corina’s wardrobes.
‘Go ahead.’ She hears me rattle the hangers. ‘Take whatever you want, not that anything will fit you!’
I see a nice wrap-around red dress that I can wear with my black knee-high boots, so I put that on. It is too big but I pull the belt tighter. I dry my hair into a tiny sleek ponytail and clip back my fringe. I put on my make-up. I stare in the mirror. It’s a new chapter. I’m a new person. I’m going to toast the week I ruined my life.
19
Saturday night. Wott’s Chinese Restaurant. South William Street. Dublin 2.
‘To the week I ruined my life!’ I hold my glass of red wine by the stem out towards Corina and we toast with a clink.
‘Oh, don’t say that, it will be OK, things happen for a reason and all that.’ She looks less than convinced.
The small tea light candles in the silver, heated serving dish flicker at us. The restaurant is warm and actually I am a bit hungry. The truth really does set you free. I miss the kids like crazy but I will be home Monday. My new chapter waits to be written. I have no idea what will happen or what it will bring. I haven’t had an appetite since those hot dogs on Friday. It seems like a lifetime ago.
‘What do you fancy?’ Corina’s freckles catch my eye as she holds the large, soft-backed, silver-embossed Wott’s menu out to me. Her red hair is tied back as always with the front bits tumbling down around her, eyes heavy with mascara.
‘Something simple, I might try a sweet-and-sour chicken and fried rice.’ I open it and read down my options.
‘Mmmm.’ She studies the menu carefully as gratefully I sip my wine.
‘I’m having starter, main course, sides and a dessert – the whole shebang,’ she tells me, then she laughs and pours more wine into our glasses as she goes back to her menu. ‘This is the first time we have been out that you don’t have a curfew. Every cloud and all that.’ She winks at me now.
I look around at the Christmas decorations and I wonder what the kids are doing. If Mark got to play for the Ranelagh Rovers Under 6s today. I wonder about the state of the kitchen. I wonder whether Colin read Roddy Doyle’s book to Mark. If the uniforms are washed. If the lunches are made.
Colin tends to give Mark his iPhone to play games on till he falls asleep when I’m not there. It hits me. I should try now. With a shaking hand I put my glass of wine down beside the flickering flame. I grab my bag from the back of my chair and I pull my phone out and dial.
It answers on the first ring.
‘Mummy?’ My son’s little voice whispers down the line. My picture comes up when I call Colin. It’s a picture of me with my face full of spots when I got adult chicken pox. Colin thinks it’s hilarious. It kinda is, I suppose.
‘Baby boy!’ I literally crush the phone to my ear. ‘Hello, baby, how are you?’
‘Where are you, Mummy? You said be home sooner.’ He sounds so baby-like. His squeaky voice comes clearer over the line now.
I pant in relief because I can tell by his voice that he doesn’t know what’s been going on.
‘I had to work a few days longer, I’m sorry, baby. I will be back to cuddle you after school, how are you? How was football? Did you get to play? I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart.’
‘Mummy, I’m in the middle of a ’portant game here …’ He’s distracted.
‘OK, well, is Jade in her room, sweetie, just for a second?’ I shut my eyes tight.
‘Uh-huh – I’m on level fours of surfer and Daniel is still on levels 3 … and—’
I interrupt.
‘Baby, could you pop into Jade’s room and let me talk to her for just one tiny minute?’
‘Uh-huh, but I can’t find my slippies, Mummy, so I have to go in my toes feet,’ he says.
‘That’s OK, sweetie, toes feet are OK on the carpet, remember?’ I urge him on.
I look up and Corina is staring at me. I give her the thumbs-up with my free hand. Heart bumping out of my body.
I hear Jade’s muffled voice. Then I wait. Then I hear, ‘Hello … Mom?’ She drawls her American all over me.
‘Hi, love.’ I breathe out a huge sigh of relief as I hear her voice. Her beautiful voice. I don’t care if she barks like an Alsatian or uh-uh-uhs like a monkey to communicate. Why was I letting her accent bother me so much? Who cares?
‘Where are you, Mom, like … aren’t you totally supposed to be home this evening and stuff? Like, er, Dad told us your show got cancelled and stuff, right, but I thought that you’d be here tonight?’
I close my eyes and I can see her. Soft pink headphones down around her neck now. Blonde hair piled on top in a messy bun. Probably in her cream love-heart pyjamas, as I washed and ironed them before I left.
They don’t know. They don’t know. They don’t know.
‘You heard that Dad bust his nose, though, right?’ she tells me all very conversationally.
‘I-I-I did,’ I stutter.
‘I mean, what kinda idiot falls off a treadmill at the gym, right? Like, Mom, he’s sooo embarrassing looking…’
‘I know, love.’ My eyes are watering again. Corina passes me a linen napkin.
‘Mom … why was Dad so mean to Corina at my gymnastics?’
‘It’s a grown-up problem, love, but it’s all sorted now, nothing for you to worry about, OK?’
‘I kinda felt sorry for her. She is a nice lady, she bought me a big bag of peanut M&Ms.’
‘I told you she was a nice lady and she thinks the world of you … Daddy and her have made up now so it’s all fine,’ I try to convince her.
‘I remembered what you said, Mom, about taking people as you find them and I’m going to do that from now on. If you were, like, trying to call Dad, will I call down to him?’ I notice the more she talks, the less American she keeps up.
‘No, that’s fine, love, I spoke to him earlier,’ I say as I dab the corner of my eyes with the napkin.
‘I want my subway surfers game back, I nearly had a mystery box.’ I can hear Mark.
‘The annoying ant is pulling the phone out of my hand. See you tomorrow, Mom … Mom … ?’
‘I’m still here, Jade,’ I say.
‘I miss you and … I love you, Mummy,’ she tells me.
I’m taken aback that she’s told me she loves me and called me mummy.
‘I-I-I love you too, darling, so much …’
‘So, so, so, so, so much … Remember when I used to always say that when I was a kid?’ she asks quietly.
‘I sure do,’ I say. ‘Maybe now that you are older and I definitely don’t call you boo boo any more, maybe we could make up a new saying?’
‘Yeah, maybe, Mom. That maybe sounds kinda cool, or maybe a qui
rky handshake? Gotta go.’
They hang up. I let out a long, ‘Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.’
It comes from deep within my very core. A yogic breath. That conversation was medicinal. Healing.
‘You talked to them? How?’ Corina is clutching the soft black menu to her chest.
‘Mark had Colin’s phone in bed.’ I smile brightly and put the napkin down on my lap.
‘They’re OK?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, seem perfectly fine.’ I light up with a beaming smile.
‘I mean, things are going to change for them obviously. They will ask why Dad is in the box room, but I’m going to be honest with them, insofar as I will tell them we are working through a few issues. Do you think Colin would ever tell them what happened in Amsterdam?’ I ask her.
She is quick to shake her head. ‘No. Never. He’d never hurt them like that. He loves those kids too much … Oh, would you ever look who it is?’ Corina’s eyes dart to the door.
‘Who?’ I dare not look around. My nerves are hanging by a thread.
‘It’s Trevor. Responsible for my Trevorweight, Trevor.’ She sits up straight and licks her lips.
‘He’s coming this way.’ She stares at me as a couple walk by.
‘Hey, Trevor!’ Corina pushes back her chair and stands up; she is only up to his neck. He looks quizzically down at her. The tall woman with him stands, with her festive, glittery silver bag clutched between her two hands in front of her. Her long pink polished thumbnails scraping at the glitter. They make a handsome couple. He’s attractive, tall and dark with a goatee beard; she’s sexy, voluptuous, blonde with a swinging high, sleeked-back, salon-prepared ponytail.
‘Oh, ’ow ya doin’?’ His Mancunian accent rings out around us.
‘Couldn’t be better, and how are you, pet?’ Corina is bright and breezy as she pokes him hard in the chest. He is unbalanced slightly.
‘Not bad, ya know … Keepin’ busy, hun,’ he adds. ‘You know my girlfriend, Amanda, right?’ For all his easy manner, I can see he still hasn’t placed Corina. In fact I’d go as far as to say he hasn’t a clue who Corina is.
‘No, don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.’
Amanda grimaces as she slowly looks Corina up and down and limply holds out her henna-tattooed hand.
The Week I Ruined My Life Page 21