by Matt Shaw
Her silence spoke volumes.
“But the fact you were spotted...And the way you were being so cold to me when I made a move to bring us closer together...you’d never leave your phone lying around like you used to - even if you were just popping to the kitchen to get another drink...it all started to stack up.”
“Who told you?” she pressed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’d like to know.”
“Why? So you can go and shout at them for sticking their nose in? No, you don’t need to know.”
“It was Sarah. She’s been off with me.”
I didn’t deny or confirm it but - it was Sarah. The woman Hollie once thought was trying to instigate an affair with me! Considering the position we’re in now I kind of wish Sarah had wanted an affair with me when Hollie had gotten suspicious of her intentions. She’s a pretty girl and at least I’d have had someone to fall back on now - it wouldn’t be right but it might have taken a little of the sting away.
“You saw him again on the Saturday,” I said. “I saw you myself. I had to know whether Sarah had been lying to me or not. You know, trying to break us up...you had always said she wanted to be with me and I never believed it...thought, maybe, it was her way of breaking us up...stupid to think that although I wished it had been true. More than anything I wished it had been true.”
On the Saturday Hollie had told me she was visiting a girlfriend - the same girl, in fact, she had used as an alibi the first time she went out with him...probably used the same girl’s name to make it more believable if she had to call me to say she was crashing on her friend’s floor again. And, no doubt, to keep it simple.
“He was standing outside the restaurant with a bouquet of flowers for you. You greeted him by throwing your arms round him and kissing him...he hadn’t even had a chance to hand you the flowers. Watching you kissing...” I looked at her to see the guilt and embarrassment on her face, “...that really hurt.” She went to say sorry, again, but I continued, “You didn’t leave the restaurant with the flowers. What happened to them?”
“I couldn’t very well bring them home, could I?” she said. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Why’s she getting upset? Or are they tears of happiness as she recalls the happy memories of her many secret liaisons?
“Well that was a waste of his money,” I said. A little piece of me felt happy knowing she had to leave the flowers behind. She loved flowers. She always smiled when I brought them home to her...back at the start of our relationship. She’d spend ages arranging them in a vase, after cutting the stems, to make sure they had the maximum impact on anyone who’d see them. I’m glad she couldn’t get the full enjoyment of his flowers.
“He didn’t care,” she said. “Every time we met, he’d always have fresh flowers. I kept telling him not to waste his money because I couldn’t take them home. He said he did it just to see the smile on my face.”
I hate him.
“Why didn’t you go home with him on the Saturday?” I asked. She hadn’t stayed with him on the Wednesday either. As I sat, outside the restaurant, I half expected to receive a call from her - whilst she was having her romantic meal - informing me she was going to crash on her friend’s sofa. The call never came.
“It wasn’t a good time,” she whispered.
“Why’s that? He have another woman back at his house?”
She didn’t answer. I knew what she meant. I recall seeing the Tampax on the side, in our bathroom. Just...Any excuse to slur his name and put doubt in her mind that he is Mr Perfect.
“Didn’t sleep with him on the Wednesday. You didn’t sleep with him Saturday. The other nights you were home, with me...In body, at least. Must have been explosive for the pair of you tonight...well, it would have been had I not burst in.”
She started to cry again. I, on the other hand, started to laugh as I recalled the expression on his face. She was on his bed in a state of undress...He was stood at the foot of the bed, his shirt in his hand and trousers unbuttoned, when I suddenly kicked the bedroom door in with a kitchen knife in my hand. I’ll never forget the look on his face. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll forget the lustful look she had on her face, before she saw me standing there either. For her to view another man like that...
“I’m sorry you saw that,” she said. She sounded genuine but...then...the sentence could have two meanings. Yes, she could have been sorry I had seen her looking at another man with lust in her eyes..no husband should have to witness that...but she could also be sorry I had seen it because...had I not...she’d still be in bed with him now...perhaps stirring from an exhausted sleep as an alarm sounds off, alerting them it’s morning and that it’ll soon be time to part ways once more - if only for a couple of days.
Speaking of morning, the sun is slowly starting to come up.
Good.
There’ll be traffic soon; someone to help us get to the next village where we can call for a tow-truck. Few more hours and we should finally be home.
Home...I suppose we need to sort that out too...
IX
“I think you need to move in with your mum for a while whilst we sort stuff out at home.” I said. “We’ll put the house on the market and split the money we get back from it...”
“What? No, I don’t want to!”
“I have my job I need to think about. My family don’t live down here...” My mum and dad were quick to up-root me when I was a teenager to move down south but...soon as I finished college, they were even quicker to move back up north. “It wouldn’t be practical for me to move up there and I can’t afford anything right now...maybe when work finally gets round to paying me for the overtime I’ve done I’ll be able to rent somewhere but...until then...you’re going to have to move in with your mum.”
Hollie was still crying from our earlier conversation and this was doing nothing to stem the flow of tears, “I don’t want to move out.”
She should have thought about that before sleeping with someone else. She made her choice the moment she let him slide his penis into her. Hell, I shouldn’t even be the one to look to rent somewhere else. It should be her. It’s just...If we wait for her to raise the money from her office job - knowing the amount she needs to pay off her credit cards each month...she’ll never have the money for a deposit - let alone the admin fees estate agents charge when you want to rent.
“I don’t want to move out. We can still make this work...”
“What?”
“We can make it work...I came home with you...I came home with you...I chose you! I want to be with you!”
“What are you talking about? You were sleeping with another man behind my back and you expect everything to be just perfect between us? Pick up from where we left off before you started sucking off another man as though it never happened? You realise...whenever I look at you...I see him. I see you and I see him. And what you’re doing, in my mind, doesn’t make for happy images or good memories to build a relationship upon. You’ve finished us...” I said. I was speaking without thinking. Deep down, there’s nothing I want more than to put this behind us and move on from it...together...male pride stops me though. She should have thought about this before she started seeing someone else. Another marriage breakdown down to one of the parties believing the grass was greener on the other side. Fuck that. I’d be a mug to take her back. I know, from here on in...whenever she’d go out...or be home late from a genuine day in the office...my mind would be playing back the sight of her with another man - whether they’re coming out of a restaurant holding hands and laughing like they were yesterday before I followed them back to his house...or whether they’re fucking...I couldn’t take it. How do you move on from that? Forgive and forget? I wish I could forget but I can’t...and all the time I fail to do that...forgiveness is impossible.
“What happened between Richard and I...It was a mistake,” she said. She sounded desperate. “A mistake. You have to believe me. I wanted to call it off...I just got
carried away with it...”
“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”
“There isn’t any excuse! I’m not trying to excuse it...it’s just...it was a mistake, I know that. I’ve known for a while...your face when you saw us...i’d do anything to take that back. I wish I could.”
I wish she could too but it isn’t going to happen.
“Please,” she continued, “whatever it takes...I’ll make it work. I’ll make us work. Please don’t give up on me...”
“You gave up on me!”
“And I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You have to believe me! I wish I could take it all back...I wish I had paid more attention to you these last few weeks...no, I wish we had never gotten into the rut of arguing. That’s what it was...a rut...”
“So you had carte blanche to go out and fuck whoever you wanted?”
“No, I didn’t say that...but we were in a rut. This could be what it takes to get us out of the rut. I’ll try harder! I’ll try and be a better person to live with! I’ll try and be a better wife. Please! Don’t give up on us. Give me one more chance! Please!”
I didn’t say anything. I wanted to put my arm round her and comfort her but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay but it would have been a lie. I couldn’t tell her that, certainly couldn’t promise it. Even if I did think we could make another go of things - I didn’t want her thinking it was easy to get me back. I needed her to think it was hard. I needed her to believe there was a chance she’d lose me forever. If not - who’s to say she wouldn’t go and do it again.
“Please say you forgive me...”
“I can’t,” I said. Male pride standing firmly in my way.
“I could have stayed with him. I could have. But I didn’t. I chose to leave with you.”
That’s true. She did choose to leave with me. I had kicked the door in with every intention to hurt him...and her...but I didn’t. I simply dropped the knife in shock, from the scene playing out before my eyes. I couldn’t speak - just wanted to throw up right there and then on his expensive looking carpet. I wish I had - something else for him to remember me by...something other than the weak man who was too upset to even put a fight up for his wife. A fight, I’m sure, I would have won...especially by the nervous look on his thin face when I first burst into the room. I just turned and left. Tried my best to hold the tears in until I got back into my car. Tears which didn’t come. I guess I had cried them all out earlier in the evening whilst I was waiting for them to come out of the restaurant. By the time I started the car’s engine, she had jumped into the passenger seat, semi-dressed, and my anger had kicked in.
“Please say you’ll forgive me,” she said. She was trying to hold the tears back now. “Please...Just one more chance...If you don’t trust me or you’re not happy...Please...”
I shook my head. Suddenly the car was illuminated by the light of an oncoming vehicle. Perfect timing for I felt close to cracking at her requests to give us another chance.
“Please! We don’t have much time! Please say you’ll forgive me!” she continued. I thought she’d have been just as happy to see the car as I was. Despite the adrenalin from my mixed emotions I was starting to feel the cold.
“I’ll wave them down,” I said as I seized the opportunity as an excuse to get out of the car. I slammed the door behind me and stepped into the middle of the road where I waved my arms frantically in the hope the car would stop for us.
X
“PLEASE! WE’VE HAD AN ACCIDENT!” I shouted, in the middle of the road, as I waved for the oncoming driver to slow down. A nice, new, shiny BMW. Knowing the reputation of BMW drivers I half expected him to speed on past me but thankfully he slowed to a halt and put his hazards on.
“You okay?” he asked as he opened the car door. An elderly looking man dressed as though going to an office - one which he probably owned.
“Thank you for stopping, my wife and I...we were driving back towards our home when a deer stepped into the middle of the road.”
“Can’t see the deer,” he said, ”must have missed it. Normally they aren’t so lucky on this road..”
“Just a shame we didn’t miss the tree,” I said.
The elderly man closed his car door and stepped towards me, “Jesus, are you okay? You need an ambulance?”
“I’m fine...my wife is in the car too. We’re both just a little cold.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. He pointed to my face. I frowned and checked my reflection in his car door’s mirror to see what he was talking about. Blood streaming down my face. “You called for an ambulance?”
“No, I didn’t even realise I had cut myself. I’m fine,” I said, “just a little cold...besides, we have no signal.”
“Even so, I think we best get you checked out...” he opened his car door and reached back in again, collecting a mobile phone from the passenger seat.
“Good luck with signal,” I said. “Neither my phone nor my wife’s has any signal..”
He dialed a number, “Hello? Yes...Ambulance, please...”
Son of a bitch. As soon as I’ve dealt with the insurance companies, I’m changing over to another network provider. I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone out...What the Hell? The screen is smashed. I don’t remember doing that. Must have laid awkwardly on it, when I was trying to sleep on the backseat.
“Your wife in the car?” he asked.
“Yes....Hollie...Come and sit in this car....It’s warmer,” I called out. “Is that okay?” I didn’t even think the old man might have a problem with us sitting in his BMW whilst we wait for the unnecessary ambulance to arrive.
“Sure.” The old man walked over to my own car and opened the door. “Holy Shit!” he said.
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry...I’m really sorry...”
“What?”
I walked over to the car to see what he was fussing over - completely unprepared for what I saw. Hollie was sitting in the passenger seat with her eyes wide open...lifeless...a branch, from the tree we hit...it had smashed through the windscreen and pierced her throat...
“No!” I said...My legs trembling, voice cracking...”It can’t be...I was just talking to her...I was just talking...”
“I’m sorry, she looks as though she’s been dead for a couple of hours...”
I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face...It can’t be. It couldn’t be. We were just talking...She can’t be dead...She can’t...I never had the chance to forgive her...To tell her that...Despite everything...I do still love her...
The old man rested his hand on my shoulder. Little comfort.
I screamed so loud I heard the birds fly from the trees in a panic.
“It’s okay...” said the old man, “...everything will be okay...Help is on the way. Help is on the way.”
His words meant nothing.
It wasn’t okay.
It was too late.
I was too late.
“I never had the chance to forgive her...” I wept.
~ FIN
ROMANCE IS DEAD
PROLOGUE
I didn’t always love my wife. In truth, there were times - in our five year marriage - when I truly hated her. I don’t feel guilty. They say there’s a thin line between ‘love’ and ‘hate’ so I guess I was never far away from loving her again. And - why I hated her - it was not without reason. She had a certain way of looking at me. A certain way of talking to me. A certain way of simply rubbing me up the wrong way. An example of how she could rub me up the wrong way? Breathing. That’s one. Off the top of my head. I could give you other reasons but we’d be here all day.
You just need to know I didn’t always love my wife.
And that, my friend, is justification as to why I killed her. An act which, as it happens, saved our marriage. Look at her, sitting at the dinner table - letting her meal get cold again - how could I not love her? Her constant put downs, general neediness...they served no purpose ot
her than to hide her natural beauty from me and make me forget why I asked her to marry me in the first place. Now she’s quiet, I remember. Her captivating beauty. Her smile. The sparkling of her eyes. Her ass. Although, to be fair, that disappeared within the first year of marriage. Same old story, the woman gets comfortable...happy they’ve found their ‘one’...they let things go to shit. An unwritten rule for the female of the species, I believe.
Plus side to her not eating now. She’ll soon be back in shape again. Soon have that ass I know and loved so much. Even fucked on special occasions although - again - not so much after the ring went on her finger. That damned ring...looking at her now I can’t help but wonder whether she’d still be breathing if it weren’t for that ring. I swear, before the ring - she was a completely different person.