I don’t pursue it. I’m not after false compliments either.
‘Where were you?’ I ask him. I assume he won’t tell me the truth, but I wonder obliquely whether he cares that I haven’t tried to contact him either. I, too, needed some time. Time to process my feelings, to decide what to do – whether I should pack his bags and leave them outside or pray he came home and that, for now, he would stay. Whatever I do, I don’t want to initiate an argument he will then claim drove him away. He will take responsibility for the decisions he makes – perhaps already has made. I made a horrendous mistake; I accept that. Insisting he ingratiate himself with my father was wrong. Jason didn’t want to be beholden to him. But I won’t let him lay the blame for destroying our family at my feet.
‘I stayed at my sister’s,’ he says, with an awkward shrug. Is he telling the truth? I can’t tell. I have yet to learn the body language of my husband’s lies. ‘After that last argument we had, I thought we could both use a little space,’ he goes on, his expression wary, his eyes meeting mine briefly.
So he is blaming me then? I hide a disappointed smile. I can’t quite believe he would actually imply that my ‘snooping’ on him, accusing him of doing what I nowknowhe’s been doing, is reason enough for him to disappear for two days without even having the courtesy to let me know he was alive.
I squash my growing anger. I’m determined not to fall into the tit-for-tat trap. ‘It must have been a bit cramped there,’ I say, aware that, with two children under five in a two-bedroomed house, his sister barely has room to swing a cat.
‘I slept on the sofa.’ He runs a hand tiredly over his neck. ‘Where are the kids?’ he asks, glancing around as if Holly and Josh might spring out from one of the kitchen cupboards.
‘At school,’ I supply. Perhaps he’s forgotten it’s a school day. It must be disorientating for him, I think cynically, having forgotten so completely that we existed. ‘Coffee?’ I ask him, turning away. I can’t look at him for fear I will see the deceit in his eyes. If I do, I will lose control and become the demented woman I was in his office I don’t like.
‘No, I, er… No, thanks,’ he answers hesitantly. ‘You’re not at work today then?’ he asks, as if surprised I would take a day off while my world falls apart. I suppose he might be. Knowing I need time stored up for when my children are sick, I rarely take a day off.
‘No.’ I make myself a coffee, willing myself not to give in to the tears that are now perpetually close to the surface. ‘I didn’t feel too well, strangely. I have a pain… in my chest.’ My voice catches. I inhale sharply.
He doesn’t speak for a second. Then, ‘I’m sorry, Karla,’ he says quietly.
Breathing shakily out, I face him. ‘For?’
Jason scans my face and then drops his gaze to the floor. ‘Everything,’ he says, his tone ragged. ‘This. I can’t do this any more, Karla. I’m so sorry.’
An icy dagger pierces my heart. ‘Do what?’ I ask, because I have to. I have to hear the words spill from his mouth before I can process the enormity of what he is telling me.
‘Us.’ He looks up, his expression anguished. ‘It’s not working, Karla. Things have become… too complicated. I think we should take some time. Take a step away from each other.’ He pulls in a tight breath and waits, as if for the onslaught.
Take a step away? How far a step, Jason? How huge a step away from me is fucking other women?My anger simmers dangerously. I stare at him, too shocked by his calm announcement that he’s about to end our marriage, destroy my life and our children’s lives, to respond.
‘Complicated,’ I repeat eventually, my voice choked. ‘I see.’ I stifle a ridiculous urge to laugh.
Jason says nothing. His eyes fixed to the floor, he pinches the bridge of his nose instead.
‘Are you seeing someone?’ I force the words past the shard of glass in my throat.
‘No.’ Jason looks quickly up. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Karla. I…’ Averting his gaze again, he trails hopelessly off, as if realising the absurdity of that statement.
Liar!
I stamp down the furious voice in my head, nodding instead as I assimilate, struggling against the urge to fly at him, to hit him, to keep hitting him until my strength fails me. ‘So’ – I take another deep breath in and try to contain the emotions warring inside me – ‘are you leaving?’
I see his reluctance, his hesitancy, and I know what his answer will be. ‘Because if you are, it might be an idea to discuss how we’re going to explain to your children that they’re about to becomefatherlesssuddenly.’ Holding his gaze, I short-circuit him, as he makes my worst nightmare a living reality.
Jason closes his eyes. ‘I… don’t know.’ Emitting a heavy sigh, he moves away from the door at last, where no doubt he remained poised for flight should things turn ugly. ‘Do you want me to go?’ he asks, stepping towards me.
He looks tentatively at me, and I realise this ball is in my court, for now. ‘You will eventually.’ I swallow hard, force the tears back.
He nods, runs a hand over his face. ‘The kids,’ he says. ‘I just want to do what’s best for them. I don’t want to upset them.’
Ha!Now I really want to laugh, until I break down and cry. But Iwon’t.I will do something at which I am well practised. I will detach from the emotion – from this, the most painful moment of my life. I will focus my energies on the fight, because I will fight for my marriage. Even though the battle might already be lost, I won’t give in easily. I willmakehim want me.
‘Stay,’ I say impassively. ‘For now.’
I feel my husband’s surprised gaze following me as I walk calmly past him to the hall. ‘It’s different, Jason,’ I call back, as I mount the stairs to cry my tears in private. ‘As birthday surprises go, it’s definitely different.’
Twenty-Three
JASON
