“Yeah, well, it’s because I love you.”
“Thanks.” I paused, struggling to get my words out. “And thanks for this.”
“No problem.” There was another pause, longer this time, as I took another sip of my vodka. It burned as it went down and wasn’t particularly good, but it had been cheap and strong, and tonight that was the aim of the game.
And yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have been drinking with the sole purpose of hoping I’d pass out and not have to relive the memories of my wedding to the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with… until six months ago, when I’d realised he’d been cheating on me for the past year with every pretty young man in a two-mile radius, forcing me to leave the life, career, and house I’d adored in an attempt to get away from him.
Reed had said I was being a coward and running away, but he’d also thrown plates at my head while I’d packed my suitcase, so I didn’t really give a shit about his opinion.
I thought he’d wanted me to scream and shout and argue with him, but I’d felt numb.
Hollow.
Empty.
Like someone had reached into my chest and scooped out my heart with a rusted spoon. One of the small ones, like the kind my granny had used for boiled eggs.
I vaguely remembered telling Reed we were done and driving to a hotel, but the rest of that night was a bit of a blur. But I must have messaged Shane because he’d banged on the door at two in the morning with a bottle of vodka, a packet of doughnuts, two kebabs, and some cheesy chips, like we were nineteen all over again.
The kebabs had almost made me feel worse than my marriage ending. At least, for a day or two while they tormented my digestive system and reminded me I couldn’t handle that sort of shit anymore. Especially since I was closer to forty than I wanted to admit.
“How… how are you holding up?” Shane asked. “Or is that a pointless question?”
“I don’t know,” I said, the same empty feeling sinking into my bones as I drank. “I know I should feel something but… it’s like there’s nothing there. I’m angrier at my front door than Reed.”
“You’re not still blaming yourself, are you?”
“Why? Am I not allowed to do that?”
“No! He cheated on you, E! In your fucking bed! In that house which you loved and poured so much fucking time and money into, the place you made into a home for the two of you. You were together for ten bloody years, and he threw all of that away,” Shane said hotly, and I almost smiled because I could picture him pacing up and down his kitchen while his husband, Eric, watched from the sofa. “So no, you’re not allowed to blame yourself. What would you even be responsible for? You didn’t install Grindr on his phone or summon an army of demon twinks to seduce him.”
“No, but… I worked a lot. I didn’t make time for us. I didn’t put him first. Or us.”
Shane scoffed. “I’m sorry, but when that happens, you talk to your partner. You don’t get your neighbour to suck your dick, and… no, I am calm, Eric.I am.Well, okay, but I’m allowed to be upset. Reed was a cunt!” I poured more vodka into my glass, amusement pulling at my lips as I listened to Shane argue playfully with his husband. The two of them were so good together.
In hindsight, they were everything Reed and I had never managed to achieve.
“Sorry,” Shane said as his focus switched back to me. “My husband is telling me to calm down.”
“I didn’t say that!” I heard Eric say in the background and I almost laughed.
“That’s very rude,” I said as I took another long sip. I was getting used to the taste now, and the burn had all but faded.
“I know! Anyway, you’re not allowed to blame yourself, even if the two of you were having problems. He should have talked to you, told you how he was feeling, suggested fucking couples’ counselling, not blown up your entire life. And if he did want a divorce, he could have had the decency to tell you, not let you walk in on him.”
I swirled the vodka around in the glass as I leant against the counter, my eyes unfocused as I stared at the brown pattern on the cream floor tiles. I’d thought it was deliberate, but now I was wondering if it was just dirt. “I’m not sure he did want a divorce,” I said quietly. It was a thought that had been percolating in my brain for months now, but this was the first time I’d ever voiced it. “I think he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Have me and our life—the house, the holidays, the wardrobe—and then his men on the side. I don’t think he expected me to walk out. It’s why he threw the plates at me. He wanted me to fight for us, even though he’d given up.”
“Like I said, he’s a cunt. And he doesn’t deserve you,” Shane said.
“He doesn’t want me anyway. He’s already scrubbed me out of his life. I checked.”
“Seriously?”
“I know, I shouldn’t be looking.”
“Yeah, but I was more talking about the fact he’s scrubbed everything. I’m so sorry. You deserved so much better.”
“Thanks.”
