Unravelled (24 page)

“Nicola must be crushed,” Sophie said. “She worships her father.”

Angie countered, “I think we can safely put that verb in the past tense.”

“Poor Nicola. And poor Eileen.”

“What about me?” I felt like whining. “I’m a victim in this too!” But of course, my angst was nothing compared with finding out at your daughter’s rehearsal dinner that your husband had been cheating on you, or that your much-adored father had been banging one of the guest speakers. Not that we had ever actually
banged,
but it was not for lack of trying. God, it was no wonder Jim had problems getting it up. His guilty conscience must have been affecting his erection.

“Obviously, we’ll need to contact Nicola soon,” Angie said. “We don’t want to be painted with the same brush as—” She caught herself. “Sorry Beth, it’s just that we don’t want Nic to think that we knew what was going on between you and Jim.”

“I know,” I sniffled, a fresh batch of tears seeping from my eyes.

Sophie added, “She’s really going to need the support of all of her friends right now.”

“We’re going to have to rally around her,” Angie said.

“Yep,” Martin nodded from the front seat.

I wanted them to rally around me as well. It look all of my willpower not to beg: “I need you too! Don’t desert me because of one stupid mistake!” I couldn’t believe that in one horrible evening, I’d lost the man I loved and my dear friend... and sort of... stepdaughter, I guess. I suddenly felt extremely nauseous. But still... what Nicola was going through was much worse. It would have been selfish to plead for their support.

Moments later the cab pulled up in front of my apartment. I began to fish in my purse for cab fare. I didn’t want my friends to think I was cheap as well as an adulteress. “Don’t worry, Beth,” Martin said. “We’ve got it covered.”

This small gesture of kindness sent another wave of emotion through me. “Thanks,” I managed to mumble as I dabbed my eyes with the soggy Kleenex. Clutching the door handle, I faced my friends before exiting. “Thanks for getting me out of there. I’m sorry... about ruining everything.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Martin said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You didn’t know,” Sophie agreed, a little grudgingly.

I pushed open the door and stepped out onto the curb. As I turned to close it behind me, Angie scooted out to join me on the sidewalk. “Wh-what are you doing?” I asked.

“What? Did you think I was going to leave you alone in the state you’re in?” She turned back to the taxi. “Good night!” she called, waving them off. Then, tucking her arm through mine, we walked to my building.

As soon as we stepped into the apartment, we could hear Kendra on the phone.

“I mean, what if I had lain down on the sofa and the knitting needle had punctured my jugular? What then? . . . I know ... I know... I would have bled to death in a matter of minutes.”

I let the door slam behind me to alert her to our presence. “Let’s go to my bedroom,” I said morosely.

“We’re not thirteen,” Angie retorted. “We shouldn’t have to hide out in your room like a couple of kids.” She stalked through the kitchen in her high heels to where Kendra was pacing in the dining area. “Umm...excuse me,” she said, waving her hand to get Kendra’s attention. I hung back a few steps behind, biting my lip anxiously. Now that I wouldn’t be able to move into Jim’s Seattle apartment, I couldn’t afford to blow things with my roommate.

Kendra gave Angie a withering look but said into the receiver, “Just a second, Mom . . .”

“Hi,” my friend stepped forward, extending her hand. “You must be Kendra. I’m Angie Morris . . . Yes, I’m
that
Angie Morris, co-host of
The Buzz
on Channel 13.” Kendra continued to stare at her warily.

“Listen Kendra,” Angie said, adopting a serious tone. “Beth and I have been through a real tragedy tonight. We were attending a friend’s rehearsal dinner and there was a medical emergency. The bride’s mother... she collapsed. We don’t know what the prognosis is yet but... we do know that she’s going to have a real struggle ahead of her.”

“Oh . . . well, that’s a shame.”

“I know. So we were wondering if you could take your phone call into your room, so Beth and I could have a little time alone to decompress?” She lowered her voice as if I couldn’t hear. “She’s really been shaken up by this.”

Kendra glanced over Angie’s shoulder and saw me standing there. I must have looked a complete mess because she put the phone back to her ear, said, “Sorry about that, Mom,” and proceeded to her bedroom.

Alone, Angie and I sat at the kitchen table. I stared blindly at the quilted placemat before me, absently playing with the ceramic frog-shaped salt shaker. Angie sighed. “God, what a night.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“Do you want something to drink? Wine? Tea, maybe?”

“Tea would be nice. I’ll put the kettle on.” I started to get up but she put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I’ll do it. You just take it easy.” Her kindness brought another onslaught of tears, but I silently wiped them away with the back of my hand as Angie filled the kettle.

When she returned, she looked at me earnestly. “You really had no idea, did you?”

“None,” I croaked. “God, I would never have gone out with Jim had I known. I mean, I left Colin because I wanted to get married and start a family! Oh god!” I cried. “Colin wanted to try to work things out with me but I was so sure I had a future with Jim!”

Angie placed her hand over mine. “Oh, Beth . . .”

“Jim said we were going to go on a trip together... He said he was going to get an apartment in Seattle . . .” The tears were flowing freely now. “I really thought...” I trailed off.

Angie retrieved the seashell-appliquéd Kleenex box from on top of the TV and placed it on the table before me. “I know this sucks right now, but you’ll get through it.”

I blew my nose loudly. “Nicola will never forgive me.”

Angie sighed. “That’s a lot to ask, Beth. I mean, you slept with her dad.”

“We never actually
slept
together,” I countered.

“Somehow, I don’t think the fact that you told all her friends that her dad can’t get it up is going to make her feel any better.”

“I didn’t know it was her dad!” I cried in a hushed voice, for fear of alerting Kendra. Such immoral behaviour would certainly be grounds for eviction.

“Of course you didn’t, but put yourself in her shoes. You’d be pretty pissed off if I got it on with your dad.”

“Angie,” I said, “you’ve seen my dad.” My father was a balding, portly man of sixty-six. While he had twinkling blue eyes and a friendly smile, he was no Jim Davidson.

“I think your dad’s kind of cute. He has nice hands.”

“Don’t be gross!” I snapped.

“See?” she said, laughing despite the gravity of the situation. “No girl wants to think of her dad as a sexual object.”

“But Jim’s so young,” I said. “How many forty-eight year olds have twenty-eight-year-old kids?”

“It’s pretty rare.”

We sat in silence for a moment, each of us absorbed in her own thoughts. Finally, I said, “I know this is about Nicola and her wedding and everything but... I was kind of in love with him, you know.”

“I know,” she said gently. The kettle began to shriek and Angie stood up. “Where do you keep your tea?”

Thirty

THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke to the sound of the blender. While Kendra made her breakfast smoothie, I lay huddled under the blankets, my eyes still stinging from yesterday’s tears. When Angie had finally left last night, her parting words were: “Try to get some sleep. Things will look brighter in the morning.” While
brighter
might have been a bit of an exaggeration, the whole mess did seem slightly less insurmountable.

I had to talk to Nicola; there was no doubt about it. Once she realized that I, too, was a victim of her father’s lies and perhaps my own stupidity, she would have to forgive me. In fact, once she understood that I really had no idea that Jim was married, let alone to her mother, maybe we could commiserate? Discuss his numerous untruths and deceptions? Perhaps Eileen Davidson would even like to join us? We would meet at Nicola’s apartment, and over wine—or something a little stronger, say... martinis—we could bitch about our betrayal. Maybe we would even come up with a plan for revenge? We’d be like The First Wives Club—except we’d be The First Wife, The Ex-Mistress, and The Estranged Daughter Club.

When Kendra finally left, I stumbled into the kitchen and picked up the phone. As I began to dial, I had a sudden attack of nerves. What if Nicola refused to take my call? What if Eileen answered the phone? Or worse, Jim? What if the three of them had stayed up all night talking and crying and had reunited as a family? Maybe Jim had convinced them that it was all my fault. He might have told them that I seduced him, that I had worn a ridiculously short skirt and revealing top to our first interview, and he’d been powerless to resist me! No, I couldn’t call.

At that moment the phone rang in my hand. My heart began to beat rapidly with fear. It would undoubtedly be someone from Nicola’s camp calling to berate me. It was probably one of those look-alike bridesmaids. She might even be calling from a cell phone to let me know that the five of them were outside my building and could I please come downstairs so they could beat me with chains and tire irons. I couldn’t answer it! But amidst my fear, I felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe it was Nicola reaching out to me? I picked up the phone.

“How are you feeling today?” Sophie asked, her tone not altogether unkind.

Well, it wasn’t Nicola but at least it wasn’t a menacing gang of bridesmaids. “A little better, I guess.”

“Good. I just got a call from one of Neil’s attendants. The wedding’s been postponed . . . indefinitely.”

“Oh . . . have you spoken to Nicola?”

“She’s not accepting calls right now. Neil’s friend is going to tell her that I’d love to talk to her, and that I had no idea—” She stopped.

“That I was dating her dad,” I finished glumly.

“Well . . . yeah. I mean, she’d feel even more betrayed if she thought we knew about it.”

“I know.”

“Well, I’m going to take Flynn to the park. If I hear from Nicola, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. So...will I see you Thursday at the stitch ’n bitch club?”

Sophie hesitated before answering. “I think we should maybe leave it for a while. You know... just until things calm down.”

“Right.”

When I hung up, I felt the prick of tears returning to my eyes. Any sense of promise for a positive outcome to this disaster had drained out of me. Sophie was pulling away from me, I could feel it. She was siding with Nicola, and who could blame her? She was probably afraid to have me over to her house in case her dad popped by for a visit. I couldn’t bear to lose the stitch ’n bitch club! They were the best friends and the cheapest therapy I’d ever had!

I was slicing a cucumber with the hope that the slices would soothe my irritated eyes, when the phone rang again. This time, I was too defeated to feel any fear.

“Hello?”

“Are you feeling any better?” Angie asked.

“No,” I said, my voice wobbling with emotion.

“Well, I had a call this morning from one of the bridesmaids.”

“Where was she?” I asked, a little fearfully.

“What? I don’t know. The wedding’s been postponed.”

“I know.”

“Did Sophie call you?”

“Yeah. I think she hates me now.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Angie said supportively. “She’s just a little overwhelmed by all that’s happened.”

A sob shook my words. “She—she said we should cancel the stitch ’n bitch club.”

“Well . . .” Angie began ruefully, “it’s just for a while . . . until things calm down.” I nodded, mutely. My friend filled the silence. “Nicola’s not taking any calls right now. Her mother’s been sedated and she’s staying by her bedside. I’ll give her a few days and then try to contact her again. I’m hoping she’ll talk to me. I told her bridesmaid to let her know that I didn’t know about... uh . . . well . . . you know . . .”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So . . . I want you to get up, get dressed, and get some fresh air. I know it’s going to be hard for a while, but you can’t let this destroy you.”

“Okay.”

After I’d hung up, I was tempted to guzzle the family-sized bottle of Nyquil that Kendra kept in the medicine cabinet and head back to bed, but I followed Angie’s advice. Instead of lying around with cucumber slices on my eyes, I ate them. It was about all the solid food I could handle, but I desperately needed a coffee. Grabbing a crumpled pair of jeans off my bedroom floor, I slid them on, followed by a baggy sweater with no bra. Since I would never love again, it didn’t really matter what my boobs looked like. Hair uncombed and face devoid of makeup, I headed out to the street.

At the coffee shop around the corner I ordered a large latte. Hopefully, the caffeine would stimulate me out of my melancholy. When my order was ready, I methodically doctored the frothy beverage, adding two packets of raw sugar and stirring slowly until the sweetener dissolved. I dreaded going back to the empty apartment. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts and memories—not to mention the telephone that could only relay more anger and disappointment. But a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind the coffee counter told me I really wasn’t fit to be seen in public. Just because I would never have another relationship with the opposite sex didn’t mean I should go around scaring people. Holding the warm paper cup, I walked back out onto the sunny sidewalk.

As I approached my building, I heard a car door slam across the street. Still a little frightened about a bridesmaid swarming, my head jerked nervously toward the sound. I recognized the car first, the dark blue BMW that had once so impressed me. And there he was, walking briskly toward me, his face set in a grim expression. Something about the steely look in his eye made me want to run inside and hide. I took a step toward the door, but he called out, “Beth!” In contrast to his hardened expression, his voice was plaintive.

“Go away!” I called back, but stood my ground. He broke into a jog and was soon face-to-face with me.

“We need to talk.”

He looked tense and tired, but nowhere near as bad as I did. “I told you at the wedding, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“But there is,” he said softly. “Please . . . can we go inside?”

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but curiosity got the better of me. I needed to know why he did it, how he thought he could get away with it, and what was going on with his family now. “Fine,” I muttered, and dug the door key out of my jeans.

We were silent through the lobby and up the elevator until we were finally in my quiet apartment. As soon as I closed the door behind us, he reached for me. “Oh, Beth,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness.

I backed away. “Are you kidding me? You can’t touch me after everything you’ve done!”

He put his hand to his brow and massaged his temples. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been such a shit.”

“Ha!” I gave a humourless laugh. “That’s a gross understatement.”

“Look, I know what I did was wrong, and trust me, I’m being punished for it. But you need to understand . . . I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Right,” I spat, “these situations where a man cheats on his wife with an unassuming mistress usually turn out really well.”

“I just—I thought . . .”

“What
did
you think?” I growled. “I’d be really interested to know.”

Jim tried to reach for my hand but again I snatched it away. He gave a defeated sigh, but launched into his explanation. “After the wedding, I was going to tell you everything. When we went on our holiday... I thought by then we’d be close enough that you’d understand. I was going to end my marriage when we got back. I really did want to be with you, Beth, but I just couldn’t . . . I—I couldn’t ruin the most important day of my daughter’s life.”

I asked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“I didn’t want you to think of me as . . . old. With you, I felt so young, so alive! I thought if you knew I had a twenty-eight-year-old daughter you’d realize . . .” He trailed off.

“You’re not forty-eight, are you?”

“Fifty-three,” he admitted ruefully. “But my doctor says I have the blood pressure of a thirty-year-old.”

“Well, good for you,” I retorted. “You’re going to need it. You’ve got a stressful time ahead.”

There was a long silence, finally broken by Jim. “I know you’re angry and you have every right to be, but... if, after a cooling-off period, you’d like to continue this relationship . . .”

“Oh my god!” I said, completely flabbergasted. “You’re serious!”

“Well, everything’s out in the open now. Eileen and I . . . well, I’m sure it’s over. She won’t even talk to me. And Nicola... she’s very upset and angry, of course, but I think with a little time, she’ll come round.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” I cried, angrily. “I’ve been devastated by this. I thought we had a future together. I thought we wanted the same things in life—children, a family . . . I broke up with a sweet, wonderful boyfriend because he didn’t want to get married, and when he promised to change, I turned him down. I thought
you
were my future.”

“I still could be . . .” Jim pleaded.

“No,” I said. My voice had gone soft. “You did more than just break my heart. I had a really great group of friends. We were there for each other, you know? When times were tough, we knew we had a support system we could rely on. I needed them . . . I really did. And you’ve blown us all apart.” My volume increased. “Your daughter meant the world to me. And she cared enough about me to ask me to read that stupid poem at her wedding! And now, because of your lies and deception, she hates me!”

“She’ll get over it,” he said. “She’s always held me up on a pedestal. She needs to realize that I’m a fallible human being... that I can make mistakes too.”

“What did you tell her about me?” I asked. “Did you tell her I didn’t know you were married?”

“We haven’t spoken since the rehearsal dinner. She’s refusing to see me, but as soon as she does, I’ll tell her. I promise.”

“Like your promises mean anything,” I said, tears suddenly stinging my eyes. No, I would not cry. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I took a deep, calming breath. “This must be really hard on you,” I said, “especially given the timing.” In answer to his questioning look I elaborated, “You know . . . with your mom’s stroke and everything.”

“Uh . . . yes,” he answered nervously. “It is . . . really hard.”

My eyes narrowed. “Did your mom even have a stroke, Jim?”

“She did . . .” There was a long pause. “. . . in 1998.”

I gave a sardonic laugh. “So, the page you got that night when we . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. It made me sick to think about it. “You lied about that, too.”

“I had to. I couldn’t very well tell you that the daughter you didn’t know existed was falling apart because her wedding photographer had been in a car accident.”

I nodded mutely. “So . . . What’s going on with the wedding?”

“It’s been postponed,” Jim said. “We’ll lose our deposit on the room, obviously, but I’m trying to work something out where we can put the money toward a rescheduled date.”

“Oh . . .” I said, with mock sympathy, “that’s really too bad that you’re going to lose your deposit.” Then I shrieked, “How can you even care about your stupid deposit?!”

“I don’t!” he cried back. “I’m just saying that I’m still hopeful that the wedding will happen. Once Eileen and I talk things out...” He trailed off. “What I mean is . . .” He cleared his throat nervously. “We have a daughter together so it’s important that we discuss the situation and try to build some sort of a relationship. But it doesn’t mean we’re getting back together.”

“Jim . . .” I said, exhaustion suddenly taking hold of me, “if you can salvage your family, do it. If Eileen will take you back, you’re a very lucky man.”

“Beth . . .” he tried, but I wanted no more of it.

I pushed past him and opened the apartment door. “Goodbye, Jim.”