He’s spot on about the timing. JayRay and I did celebrate our one-year anniversary, despite the debacle with Bernice. I shrug and try to look apologetic or interested but the truth is, I don’t have the resources to placate him. I’m growing increasingly distraught that I haven’t heard from JayRay. Is it over? Would he even tell me if it was? I can’t concentrate on what Dave is saying. Why does he need to talk about this now? All I want to do is stare at my phone. I’ve run out of words to fake the emotions that have deserted me. I once cared about this little family but that was before JayRay. Now I can only view my family through a thick pane of glass and their voices are muffled and indistinct.
“Where’s the dog?” I ask.
“Upstairs with the girls. Don’t change the subject. What’s going on? Is there someone else?”
“No!” The words shoot out, a reflex, and I’m astonished at how horrified I sound. “Of course not! I just need a bit of me-time and when I come home everybody’s so glad to see me which is great, but I need some space too. That’s all, Dave, I swear. I wish I could sit by myself for a whole day and not say a word to anybody, not have to listen or talk or think or feel. I get so tired sometimes of the enthusiasm we are supposed to have for every fucking thing.”
Dave studies me. “Maybe you’re the one who’s depressed. You sound pretty damn depressed to me. You used to be a positive and happy person.”
“I’m not depressed! I ask you to give me space and what do you do? You categorize me further and you ask me to justify my fucking life. Thanks for the support Dave, thanks for nothing!”
Kenzie comes back into the room and stares at me, her eyes like slits. “If you want to be alone,” she says acidly, “then don’t come today. Dad and Maddie and me will go. We don’t need you. We don’t want you. I lied when I said I missed you. I don’t miss you and when you’re here, you sit on your phone all day. You don’t know who my friends are anymore; you don’t know anything about me. I don’t want you to come, okay?” She runs out of the room and Maddie, who came in halfway through her tirade, glances at me and takes off after her sister.
“Great.” Dave says and he follows her, pausing at the doorway. “Actually, I can’t say I disagree with Kenz. Maybe you should stay here, Lee. Take that me-time you wanted where you don’t have to talk to any of us. See you later.”
I think about getting up from the kitchen table and protesting: no, I really do want to come, I do. I want to say that I’ve been looking forward to it, that I’m proud of Maddie and I love hanging out with Kenzie, but I don’t move. They leave and the car starts up and pulls away, and I hate myself for being such a loser mother but I grab my phone and scroll through it, thinking that maybe it has gone to sleep and JayRay did text me but, somehow, the phone hadn’t signaled me. But there’s nothing from him, nothing at all.
Fuck. I can’t take it anymore. I dial his number, thinking that if he doesn’t answer, I will die there and then.
“Hey puddytat,” he says, picking up on the second ring. “How come you’re phoning me?”
“How come you never texted me back?” I can’t stand the neediness in my voice. “What’s going on?”
“I told you,” JayRay sounds surprised. “I need time to think. I thought you got that.”
“But you shut me out.” I shout. “How could you not text me? I thought you loved me, JayRay.”
“Listen, honey, it’s been a tough time for me, okay? I do love you. But it’s been super rough.”
He’s upset and I find myself sobbing, at a loss for words.
“Hey, hey. Come on, puddytat. You want to meet up?”
I manage to hiccup yes.
“Then come over baby doll, come on, daddy will be waiting for you, okay? But can you drive? You sound in bad shape. You want me to come and get you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll leave now.”
In my haste, I forget about Muffin. I don’t see him rush out the back door as I’m scrambling to find my keys. All I can think about is JayRay and I drive as fast as I can, crying all the way.
10. BERNICE
I WATCH DIRK SLEEPING and I marvel at the miracle of him being there. He’s mine! I hadn’t thought it possible. It’s been four months since I arrived home and found him asleep on my sofa and it’s been one long honeymoon. The only fly in the ointment is that the sex is lackluster at best and I’m increasingly convinced he takes Viagra to get it up because he definitely needs a lot of lead time before the fucking commences. There’s no spur-of-the-moment passion like we used to have, no insatiable appetite to explore one another’s bodies. Our carnal relations have gone from being a ride in a Ferrari to an outing in the family sedan.
And then there is his kids’ lack of enthusiasm to visit their father at his new home.
I had, in a gesture of goodwill, set up a bedroom for both the boy and the girl, and I had, along with Dirk, taken them to Ikea and let them choose their own furnishings. Neither child showed the slightest bit of interest, playing games on their phones instead and annoying the hell out of me. Dirk had no rapport with them, which surprised me. From what he’d told me, I imagined a strong bond between them, but he was awkward and non-communicative, leaving me to try to fill the conversational gaps and, of course, I didn’t have a clue how to begin.
The children visited every second weekend, arriving on a Saturday morning and leaving on Sunday afternoon. They were quiet, unobtrusive, and well-behaved, and I attributed this to their Afrikaans upbringing, with old-fashioned morals and respect for their elders. Respect perhaps but not like. They whispered a lot to each other in Afrikaans, so quietly that I couldn’t make out what they were saying, not that I would have been able to understand even if I could distinctly hear them.
Another thing that annoyed me was how upset Dirk was that I had started smoking again. But I needed it, and I wasn’t going to give it up again, just for him.
And when Chrizette served him with divorce papers, Dirk dug in his heels and refused to sign, a move I simply could not understand.
“She kicked you out, it’s over. Why won’t you sign?”
“I need to come to terms with my failure as a husband. I can’t sign yet. It’s agreeing in writing that I didn’t keep my side of the bargain. Divorce is breaking a sacred bond that was never supposed to be broken, never.”
“You’re worried it will be misconstrued that you didn’t keep your side of the bargain?” I was outraged. “You’re right, you didn’t keep it. You had a mistress. You were unfaithful.”
He shrugged. “You don’t understand. Church and state. One and the same. I never had sex with you. I never technically sinned in the eyes of God.”
“Ja, for sure, I don’t understand. I don’t understand. But let me ask you this. What will you do and how will you feel if Chrizette wants to remarry?”
“What?” Dirk shot up as if he had been stabbed by a cattle prod. “She would never!”
“Why not? She’s a looker and she’s still young. Why wouldn’t she? For all you know, she could be seeing somebody. Why else would she kick you out so fast and not give you a second chance to make things right?”
I was sick and tired of Chrizette, the patron saint of women, particularly when I knew the truth about her. I was also furious at Dirk’s refusal to sign the papers and the relentless drama of the whole thing. And I had other problems. I was due to start writing my next book, but I had nothing left. Perhaps I could write Bake Your Way to Nothingness, an existential book for the philosophers out there, but I couldn’t imagine there being a vast audience.
“You think Chrizette’s having an affair?” Dirk was furious and he got up and grabbed his keys. “Are you out of your mind, woman? I am going over there right now. If the mother of my children is fucking some stranger then I deserve to know about it. What kind of mother would do that? Where are her morals?”
The same place as yours, I wan
ted to say but he had already left.
I watched the car speed down the driveway and stop impatiently at the electronic gate. I wondered what Chrizette would make of Dirk’s accusations and I hoped that she would insist that Dirk sign the goddamned papers, tell him that she was moving on, and that it was over for good.
I busied myself with the rituals of setting up my office for the start of a new book. I tidied up the paperwork, I brought in a stack of new reference cookbooks and magazines, and I put my pencils, highlighters and pens just so. I lined up scented candles and arranged my notebooks and my stack of post-it notes.
I took a shower, slathered myself in expensive body lotion, and got into my favourite silk pajamas. I made a cup of green tea, filled a bowl with chocolate-covered peanuts, and I sat down at my desk.
My computer was ready, the new files and folders were waiting. But I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
I got up and went to find Betty into the kitchen. “Any new recipes, Betty?” I asked hopefully, but Betty shook her head.
“You’ve got them all, Madam.”
“Ag come now, can’t you think of any new ones?”
Betty shook her head. She was being uncommonly stubborn. We had been in this boat before and back then she worked with me to come up with new ideas and we’d had a fine old time of it, concocting dishes and ideas. I sighed and told her she could go to her room for all the good she was doing, and I went back to my desk.
I wondered if it was time for me to change tack and write a novel. I was convinced I had a novel in me. I had a thousand ideas that had never amounted to more than a roughly penned paragraph that stuttered and ground to a halt, but maybe as one door was closing, another was opening.
I sighed. If I was clutching at old clichés as a lifeline, then I was definitely “not waving but drowning.” All my life, I have been much “too far out, not waving but drowning,” just like a poem I’d read a while back said. Oh dear god.
I could try to write about JayRay and his assumption that we had any kind of connection. I could write about Dirk’s misplaced sense of honour and his allegiance to a way of life that was all but gone. I could pay homage to my stepfather. I could explore the concept of family and what it meant.
I watched my impassioned speech on Janette’s Daytime Reveal! and there were some good ideas there, surely enough for a book? But where would it go and what would it say? Secrets, lies, and self-deception were players, yes, but they were everyday pieces of the chess game of daily life, nothing new.
Hours pass since Dirk left. I sit at my desk, feeling lost and angry. Where is he and why hasn’t he come back yet? I’m afraid that I pushed him too far. Have I pushed him back into the arms of Chrizette?
Night falls and I’m hungry. Betty has vanished and I make a ham and cheese sarmie. I need to talk to Betty about her moodiness, but not now. I can’t face another confrontation. I close the thick curtains and pour a large glass of wine. There is no book, my man is back with his wife, and I am alone and afraid.
I sit down on the sofa with my untouched sandwich and I wait. My ears are keenly pricked for the sound of his car and the slow whine as the gates swing open, followed by the engine’s roar up the driveway. But there is no sound at all.
11. LEONIE
I PULL UP AT JAYRAY’S PLACE and yank the keys out of the ignition. I look up at his apartment with a sense of foreboding. Something bad is going on with JayRay. He’s never been like this towards me, not in all the time we’ve been together. He usually texts me six, seven times a day, charming little messages that pave the passage of time until we can be together again. This time he left me at the mercy of my family with no support.
I sit in the car for a moment. JayRay’s apartment is on the second floor of a two-storey block. The yellow brick is tired and filthy and the flimsy steel balconies are shedding white flakes of paint like dandruff. Each apartment is stacked over a garage, with a cracked, grey asphalt forecourt in the front. The apartment block sits on the edge of a busy industrial area on the outskirts of Toronto, much like Ralph’s setup, only Ralph’s is on the other side of town. It’s a place filled with warehouses and peculiar little churches that set up dingy shop in empty office buildings, all of which are flanked by shabby fast food strip malls. I had asked JayRay why he chose to live in such depressing surroundings and he shrugged, and he said it was irrelevant. He was waiting for his ship to come in and once it did, he’d move.
I only visited him once. It was a rule that we stayed away from each other when we were back home. JayRay wasn’t interested in hearing about Dave and the girls, they bored him. In fact, I wonder, while I look up at his apartment, which has one broken curtain pulled half-shut, what we do talk about? It seems like I can’t remember at all.
I’d had to visit him, that one time. It was after our first Vegas hookup and we were back for the same interminable two week stretch as now.
“I need to see where you live,” I told him and he gave me his address. I couldn’t get there quickly enough. “I need to be able to picture you,” I told him as I fell into his arms. “I need to know everything about you.”
“Stay for a while,” he said after we had sex like crazy teenagers.
“I can’t. I have to get back. But I had to see you. I love you so much it hurts.” And then I ran away. I ran back to my shiny silver Mercedes-Benz SUV courtesy of SuperBeauty, back home to Dave and the girls, and I left JayRay to the cheap shambles of his messy apartment and the paltry ornamentations of his life.
I look at my face in the rearview mirror. I’m puffy-eyed and my hair is flat and dirty. I fix myself up as best I can and get out of the car. I climb the steps with a sense of doom. The last time I’d been here, I felt entitled. This time I feel out of place, not so much unwanted as invisible, which is infinitely worse.
I knock on the door and he answers, pulling me to him but his gestures feel false and overly-hearty. “Puddytat! What’s up, baby? Hey, why the face? Come to Papa, come on, baby, Daddy’ll fix everything.”
He holds my hand and takes me into the bedroom and undresses me, and my body breathes again and the tightness lets go, just like that. I close my eyes and then he’s inside me and the world is perfect.
Afterwards, we lie in silence. “So,” he says. “What’s going on? You never come to my humble abode.”
I pull the sheet over myself. “Humble is right,” I sound sharp. “Why don’t you get some quality sheets? A nice thick duvet? This one’s thin as anything. And your pillows … I’ve seen thicker pancakes at a Best Western.”
“Leo,” he says quietly, “what’s up? Spill the beans.”
“I can’t do it,” I say and my eyes fill with tears. “I can’t bear to be without you.”
He doesn’t reply, which isn’t a good sign. “I need a wife,” he finally says and I sit up and let the crappy sheets fall to the side.
“I’ll divorce Dave. I said I wouldn’t, for the sake of the girls, but I will.”
“Hon,” JayRay says patiently, “you don’t understand. I apologize. I wasn’t clear. You’re already my wife, you know that. You’re my love-wife, but what I need is a rich life-wife. I need a money-mommy-wife. You’re right. Look at this dump I live in. I can’t take it anymore. I need to find a rich woman and marry her. You heard my bitch of a half-sister — my looks are fading. Let’s face it, I need to find a rich woman while I still can.”
My heart is pounding and I feel hungover, and there’s acid in my gut and poison in my veins. “What? Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” He moves around and kneels on the bed in front of me. “This doesn’t change anything between you and me. You’re my real wife, my true love. But we need to find me a big old moneybags wife.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. We have to think long-term here baby. If you leave Dave, and move in with me, then what? We live like this forever?”
I shudder. The thought is repulsive and he nods. “Yeah, see what I mean? We need a wife I can make some money off of. Bernice was supposed to be our big meal ticket. That bitch. We were supposed to get something from her! I worked on that plan forever and now the whole thing’s gone belly-up. Talk about no return on investment. I spend over a year working and waiting for that gig! What a waste. I’m still super bummed out by what happened. Do you think I want to marry an old bag? I don’t. I love you too. And hey, you couldn’t really leave the girls, could you?”
“I love them. I do. I want to be a real mom to them, but you left me alone and I’m crazy without you, JayRay.”
“I’m sorry I left you alone, hon, I am. I had to think. I needed time to figure out what to do. And now I know. When we get back on the circuit, we’ll put our plan into play. I’ve been thinking and Iris is the best candidate.”
“Iris? The old duck who runs the Canadian shows?”
“That’s the one.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Why? She’s rich. She’s a widow. She’s got it all.”
“She’s old, that’s what. And what makes you think she’ll be interested?”
“She’ll be interested,” JayRay is confident.
“What happens once you marry her?”
“I get the lay of the land and see what I can do.”
I’m silent for a moment and I get out of bed. “I need to have a quick shower and go home. I put my trust in you JayRay, and you fucked me over. I should have known you would.”
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