‘Nate!’ I say, horrified the way I wasn’t horrified a while ago. ‘Don’t. We’ve done a dreadful thing.’ I hand him the coffee and try not to cry.
Two-shot espresso, no sugar, no milk,straight-into-the-vein caffeine. If I had a syringe I would stick it straight into him.
‘Drink that, throw on your clothes, you’re getting out of here. You’ve got to go home.’
‘No rush,’ he says reasonably, ‘maybe we can do it again...’
‘No we cannot! I was weak, weak! We cannot ever let Marin know or it will destroy her. I haven’t had a man sinceJean-Luc. I now realise you might do this routinely, but I do not.’
‘Shit, Really?’ He looks horrified at the idea of no sex for over ten years.
‘Yes, really. And I would not have chosen you if I had been in my right mind. I do not mess with married men.’
Saying the words makes me feel how much I’ve betrayed Marin. This is her husband, not mine. Why didn’t I send him away, why didn’t I push him away earlier?
‘Nate,’ I say in desperation, ‘get up, get out and be quiet. I don’t want my neighbours seeing you leaving.’
Dublin is a village and word spreads. I can’t bear the thought of how this will hurt Marin.
I send him outside as the lights of the taxi appear in the dark and lean against the door, locking the big lock. I can feel the fear in me, making my body vibrate with fear and anxiety. Then I go back upstairs, strip the bed. Stuff everything in the washing machine. Have the hottest shower I can bear, put on different clothes. Make my bed again after turning the mattress over.
I lie in an uneasy sleep until dawn comes. I wake up every half an hour, shaking, anxious, aware that some fabric of my life has shifted and there is nothing I can do about it.
33
Sid
The poster for the Rape Crisis Centre parachute jump practically leaps out at me. It’s synchronicity at work, I think, as I stare at it. The traffic has stalled on my route into the office and because the car simply isn’t moving, I have time to look carefully and note the website.
At work, I check the site and see that if I can raise two thousand euros, I can do a tandem jump in ten days and all but two hundred euros of the money goes to the charity.
There’s a fundraising page and I join it, looking at all the eager faces who’ve already posed excitedly online about how much money they’ve raised. I’m coming late to the party when it comes to fundraising. But without even considering how much I don’t like heights, I know that this is something I’ve got to do.
Fear keeps you in your little cage so that you can see the outside world but not get out.
Not anymore, I think. Time to fly.
You’re doing what?Finn replies to my text.
You read it right,I answer back happily.Can you forward this to anyone who might donate a fiver or a tenner?
Of course. But can I come?
I don’t have a lot of time to raise the money but Mum, Stefan and Vilma come to my rescue, along with what must be everyone in Finn’s college.
With four days to spare, I’ve raised more than two thousand euros.
On the Friday evening before the jump, Adrienne and I are last in the office.
‘I’m skipping the drinks this evening,’ I say, as we walk out the door, with us both saying bye to Imelda, who has nearly finished the evening clean.
‘No Dutch courage,’ she says.
I glance at her.
‘Tea,’ I say. ‘Lots of herbal tea to help me sleep. The last thing I want to do is drink too much to blot out the impending fear, then wake up with a dreadful hangover and not be able to do it,’ I reply.
Adrienne nods. ‘It does sound scary but anyone who’s jumped always says it’s amazing. One friend’s mother is still sky diving at seventy.’
