The Passion Play (13 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was a bad day.

Even with all the positive thinking in the world, even with the knowledge your marriage had neither satisfied you or fulfilled you – or in fact added much of anything to your life – even then the day you find out your husband cheated on you will always be a bad day.

The first thing she did when she got home – before showering or dressing for the day – was to ring the doctor she had seen for her fertility check-up. Although the doctor was not there on Saturday mornings, the clinic was open and the receptionist put her through to a nurse who was able to tell her – when she gritted her teeth and asked the question – that yes, looking at her files showed their battery of tests had included a check for sexually transmitted diseases and no, she did not have any.

She thanked the nurse curtly, hating she even had to ask the question, and rang off.

That had been her biggest worry, and the lifting of it was a small relief. Now she had only the humiliation of it all, aware out there was a group of faceless people who knew Felicity King had foolishly trusted her husband. That and the hurt, that he had betrayed her.

She went and had her shower, and if there were tears on her face along with the shower spray, they washed down the drain and away.

When she was dressed she got a piece of paper and sat down at the table with a pen. Ruthlessly she enumerated Dan's offenses against her.

He could have given her an STD.

She put a line through it because he had not, but he had taken the risk nonetheless so it needed to be there.

He had broken their marriage vows

He had lied to her as many times as he needed to keep her ignorant about his infidelity

That was why he had been coming home so late this past year, she realized. There had not been more work. There had been another woman. Was it only one? It might have been more. If he would cheat on her once he could have cheated a dozen times.

Her stomach churned.

He had lied about his character. She would never have married him, never got involved at all if she knew he was the sort of man who would break his vows.

He had denied her sex and then had it with someone else. She looked down at those words written on the page. It felt wrong to write it when the idea of having sex with him now revolted her so completely. Still, it was an offense.

He had tricked her into staying in a broken marriage for years when she could have been free. Years of her life wasted on him.

She looked at the list and felt herself get hot with rage.

She picked up the phone and
dialed a number from memory.

"Hello?"

"Hi Tanya. Sorry to bother you so early. It's Lissa."

"Hello! It's not early. I've been up for hours. I've got the kids this weekend and there's no way you get a sleep in with those two around."

"Can you talk?"

"Sure, sure, I'll put a movie on for them. Hey
, Max, Hannah, come here guys. Now Mommy's going to talk on the phone to Lissa for awhile so I want you to sit quietly. Yes, Max, I'll pour you some milk but you have to drink it in the kitchen and then come back here and sit down, okay?"

Felicity sat quietly listening to the sound of footsteps and eager chatter only someone fluent in
toddlerese could have translated. The fridge door opened and closed, then the cupboard door, and Max stopped babbling.

"Alright, where were we?" asked Tanya, still in motion. Felicity pictured her friend going to the sunny window seat in the living room and sprawling out on the cushions as she usually did when settling in for a chat.

"Dan's left me. It was a few weeks ago now, but I just found out he's been cheating on me. I want the number of your divorce lawyer."

"Oh my God!
That's . . . of course, I'll get it for you." There was a huff as her friend got up again, and then rustling like paper.

"Thanks."

"I can't believe he did that to you. The man's an idiot. You treated him like a king."

"I know."

"Ugh. I texted him an invitation to our party, too. It's next month. I'll have to get Mark to cancel the invite. I don't even want to talk to that pig. You're invited, by the way. And here's the number for the lawyer."

Tanya gave her the lawyer's details and also those for the party. "Bring a friend or a partner if you like. Are you going to start dating?"

"No. No I . . . er . . . it's too early yet."

"Yeah, I guess so.
Early days. I mean I started dating right away but then Phillip and I had been unhappy for so long beforehand I didn't feel like I needed time to get over him, you know? I was just happy to be free. Anyhow the other thing I would say to you is even though Dan's a stinking rat, don't go wild with the revenge thing, will you? I mean you deserve your fair share and all and it's good to have a lawyer, but basically you want to try and forgive him."

"I . . . what?" she had not expected that from Tanya, completely fierce and always so solidly behind her no matter what she chose to do.

"If you're living with that sort of thing, holding on to your anger and refusing to forgive is like taking poison and hoping the other person will die. You're the one who has to live with the bitterness. I mean I . . . well I didn't tell you this at the time because actually I didn't want anyone to know, but when we were at our worst Phillip had a couple of one night stands too."

"He . . . yuck!"

"Yeah, yeah, all of that. And I was fit to be tied about it. Then Caroline gave me the number of this really good counselor and I had a few sessions with her and she helped me chill out about it and let go, which was good because we really needed to get to a point where we could have a good enough relationship to parent the kids together, you know? At least you and Dan don't have kids. That's one blessing."

"I . . . guess so."

"So for sure, get it all sorted out and get some clarity about your finances so it's all separate and you know where you stand; and get the divorce over and done with, but don't hang on to it, is what I'm saying. He's a bastard and he doesn't deserve you but at least you know it now and not ten years down the track and you've got plenty of time to find somebody better. So forget him."

"I'll try," said Felicity, thinking she could not imagine it.

"You know, I can just about hear you saying to yourself 'that's not how these things are supposed to go' and you know what? There really are no rules. You can really decide you are not going to be dictated to by this experience or defined by it. Yes, you acknowledge your feelings and you grieve if you need but you don't . . . sink into it, if that makes any sense."

Felicity gave a sad little laugh. "Not really."

"Well it's like . . . how we experience these things is about us, not the actual event. And if we decide it has to be a certain way – like we have to wait some period of time to get over it or start dating again or we can't forgive an infidelity – then that's how it is. But if we say actually I'm really sad and I'm angry but that's okay and now I'm going to concentrate on other things because my life is not going to be about the stuff I don't like and didn't choose, then we can make it come out that way. You know? Anyway I know I'm not explaining it very well but this is what the counselor told me. She's really good. You should go see her. I'll give you her number."

Felicity opened her mouth to protest that she did
not need that number, she was doing okay, but Tanya must have had it to hand because she rattled it off swiftly and Felicity sighed and wrote it down next to the one for the lawyer.

They talked for
awhile and eventually Tanya's kids emerged from watching their movie and Tanya rang off.

Felicity wandered the empty house, rearranged her craft supplies until they were meticulously tidy but felt no creative urge. She cleared out the pantry and sorted that too, made a list of meals to make to use up items with expiry dates approaching soon.

Looking out of the window at the garden she saw several of her plants appeared sickly as Fall deepened. She should tend to them, tidy up the yard, rake the leaves, weed and mulch and . . . oh, not today. Not today. Tomorrow maybe, or Monday afternoon after her work appointments. All her energy suddenly drained away like water down a plughole, as the awful truth hit her once more, a new surge of despair.

She went back to bed and spent the rest of the day there, trying to nap, to pass from knowing about Dan, the real Dan, and slip into softer dreams. Mostly she just lay there and thought about it all, picking the clues to Dan's infidelity out of their life together.

It was obvious now she knew. She felt a fool, and humiliated. She tried to figure out how Luke had known. It must surely be something he had heard or seen at work, unless he had heard it from someone else who also knew Dan. Did the rest of the team know? All those nice men who had always been so kind to her, did they pity her? Had she stood and talked to them and all the time they were thinking: 'That poor woman' and feeling sorry about it? Colluding with Dan to keep her in the dark? Horrid thought. She did not know if she could bear to face any of them again and wonder if they had kept Dan's secret for him.

And Luke . . . well . . . she thought she could probably believe him if he said he had not known and once he found out he thought she knew too. She was wrong to take out her hurt on him. But why did it have to be him, breaking it to her? Him knowing all these horrid details about her life, her marriage, so now she was more determined than ever she must not see him again? Which she had already decided, of course, so why should it make her feel even worse to consider it when nothing had changed?

Worse still when she thought about how wide and empty the big bed felt, how well he had filled it and imagined him there again not as a sexual conquest but as a big man to put his arms around her and hold her wrapped up and safe and make her feel sheltered and cherished. It was not her plan or a true desire, just weakness that made her think his presence would improve anything.

When she heard the knock on the front door and turned over so she could look through the filmy gauze drapes of the bedroom out past the driveway to the entryway, the sight of him standing there made her think for a moment her juvenile desire for some sort of rescuer had summoned him. Then she realized it was past four, late enough in the day his training session was finished, yet still early enough he had not had to check into the hotel. It must be a home game or he would be on his way to the airport by now.

He had some perseverance, she could give him that much.

She did not get up.
Did not bother to move. Just lay there sideways on the bed and watched him ring the doorbell a second time, then a third. He went to the window of the garage and peered in and she knew he could see her car and would assume she was home and just refusing to see him.

She did not care if he thought she was rude, and she did not care that he was right. Today was not about
him and he could just go . . . he could just go away. She sighed heavily, not willing to use nasty language even in the privacy of her own mind.

Let him be offended. If he never came back it would save her trying to repeat the speech she had made such a mess of with him so deep inside her and her mind suffused in a rapturous pink glow. So dreadfully embarrassing, and for a moment she winced but then was distracted by the memory of that long, hard body flexing over her, sliding in and out, determined enough and compelling enough to her to win her will away from conscious control and see it lost in a haze of desire.

She stared out the window and dwelt on the recalled sensations, lassitude invading her limbs, a certain languid heaviness pooling in her like honey until she thought if he would just find his way into the house and into her bedroom and not say a word but only strip off her clothes and take her she would not protest, would open her body to him and welcome him in.

It was the talking and being sensible that got in the way. It was her trying to protect him from caring too much. When they just shut up and spoke with their bodies instead of their mouths they communicated just fine and it was a conversation she wanted if she could only find a way to have it and not remember he knew too much that was wrong about her history, nor feel guilty because she had no more to offer him.

He was a good man. She admired him. He deserved better than her. He deserved someone like she had once been, girlish and sweet and innocent and trusting. A naïve little romantic with a wide heart. Now she was all used up and bitter.

He rang the bell a fifth time and she imagined going to open the door naked and just pulling him in and throwing him down on the floor and mounting him and riding him but that would be too wild and cruel and not just because the flagstones on the floor were very chill this time of year.

After five rings he gave up and turned to go down the shrubbery-lined driveway and out to the road and she spent the next twenty minutes fantasizing about what she might have done had he been a more pushy kind of guy who had circled the house and found the open window off her bedroom onto the back garden, climbed in and discovered her naked and spread-eagled on the bed.

It beat thinking about anything
else, that was for sure.