MARCUS
The crowd’s reaction at my arrival is mixed. I don’t dare to contemplate what my wife’s is like backstage.
Under the powerful illumination of the spotlights, my white outfit, complete with intricately crafted angel wings, sparkles so brilliantly, it almost blinds me to the fact there are several hundred people sitting in the audience, not to mention probably several million more watching at home. Life-size images of white clad, winged angels project onto the stage around us, setting a scene that’s supposed to have us in purgatory. Funny, that’s exactly how I’ve felt since this show started, helpless, and awaiting my fate.
I had enough of hanging around. When Arthur rang with this opportunity, my immediate response was a resounding no. It’s my worst nightmare. Until he reminded me that losing my wife and kids was more of a nightmare and – unless I did something drastic – looking more and more likely to become a reality.
Arthur convinced me teaming up with the woman who publicly damned me, might be the only way to turn this shit show around, to save my marriage and create some outstanding publicity for my withering career. He doesn’t realise I don’t care about publicity for my career. I’ve found my calling at the club. However, I’d go to the end of the earth to save my marriage. To convince Shelly that I will show up for her, any time, and every time. I’ve failed her that way lately, but not anymore.
The last few days I’ve had no choice but to avoid her, not only because I’ve been spending every free minute of the day practising with Ava Armstrong – who wasn’t nearly as mean as she looks on TV once I explained the situation to her – but because I’ve been waiting on the indisputable proof I needed. The truth is far more outrageous than the lie, so it’s paramount I have the lab results in my pocket when the time arises. That time is now.
My heart pounds in my ribs, anticipation building as blood pumps furiously through my veins like hot lava.
Ava and I have been through this so many times this week, the only dance I could possibly attempt. It’s the only dance I ever learned. I’ve replayed it in my mind hundreds of times over in the last ten years and it’s never been more appropriate. It’s our wedding dance.
The familiar chords sound from the impressive jazz band occupying one corner of the stage. The judges gaze on intently from another corner. Ava squeezes my hand, winks, then dramatically drops to the floor creating an Oscar-worthy performance of twisting her knee, despite not having performed a single dance move.
‘Halt!’ She raises her hand to the band from her position on the floor. ‘Stop, I said.’ Her features scrunch into a scowl as she clutches her knee in mock agony.
Teddy and Aaron rush onto the stage in a pathetic attempt to help, each taking a side, lifting her to a standing position. ‘I can’t go on, I’m sorry. I’ll be lucky if it’s only a sprain.’
Noting the cameras are mostly focussed on the drama at the centre of the stage, I grab the microphone Teddy clutches loosely in his left hand before running towards the makeshift altar, centre stage.
Leaping on to it, my wings flap dramatically behind me, but I don’t let the weight of them hinder me. I’ve carried more internally this week. Now I’m on the verge of letting it all out. Tapping the microphone, I check it’s working before speaking into it. At the fluttering of my ridiculous wings, the spotlights follow, all cameras now on me.
They’re probably expecting me to drop my pants, flash my arse, my previous party trick that went viral. They’re in for a shock. I’m hoping to go viral for a whole different reason tonight. I’m planning on revealing a lot more than my arse for a change.
A quick glance at Ava is the final encouragement I need. She shoots me the thumbs-up, the final nudge for me to begin.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for the interruption but there’s something I really need to say tonight.’
The audience murmurs and someone shouts, ‘Well get on with it then!’
Clearing my throat, I summon courage from every cell in my body. ‘It’s my wedding anniversary. Ten years ago today I married the woman of my dreams. She’s still the woman of my dreams. And I have something I need to say to her tonight, with you as my witnesses.’
After the obligatory ‘ohhs,’ the crowd fall oddly silent, like each and every one of them are holding their breath for the punchline.
‘This week has been one of the worst of my life. There have been rumours, photos and misconstrued stories. Stories which even I didn’t fully appreciate the truth of until lately.’ I lick my lips, my throat dry with anticipation. There’s no sign of Shelly, and I had hoped to be able to say this to her face, but one way or another I have to say it.
‘Most of you that know me, see the loud-mouthed former captain of the Irish rugby team, and that is exactly who I am.’ A loud burst of whoops and cheers comes from the back of the room, with clapping, stamping and a whistle loud enough to match my own. In this second, I know my brothers have arrived back in the country and that they have got my back. They always have and always will. Even though technically I’m no longer on their team, they’ll always be on mine.
A grin rips across my face, any hint of self-doubt and nervousness evaporating. Like any other game, I came here to win and that’s exactly what I’m going to do – win back the trust of my wife.
Warming up to my theme, I continue. ‘But foremost, I’m a husband and I’m a father and that has always been the most important role in the world to me. Shelly, where are you? I know you can hear me. Come out here please, there’s something I need to tell you.’
Aaron and Teddy glance at each other, caught completely unaware. The judges sit back in their chairs, observing the scene from a respectable distance. Aaron appears to reach the conclusion that my surprise announcement may benefit the ratings because he leaps off the back of the stage, hopefully in search of my wife.
The audience grumble and fidget in their seats, impatient with the delay. Tough. I’ve been waiting all week to say this, they can wait a few seconds longer.
Moments later, Shelly reluctantly appears with Aaron. She stares straight ahead, straight past me, refusing to make eye contact. Hopping off the side of the altar, my legs move instinctively towards her. Her figure looks amazing in the red costume, but her plump crimson lips curve downwards as her teeth worry at them.
‘Happy anniversary, sweetheart.’ I press a kiss on her forehead. She stands mute and I have an overwhelming urge to laugh. In the seventeen years I’ve known her, I’ve never once seen my wife at a loss for words. Wary eyes eventually raise to mine, and in our shared visual exchange, a hint of hopefulness dares to creep in.
Good. She must know by being here, I have what she needs, what we both need to get back on track.
‘Happy anniversary,’ she eventually manages.
‘Do you want your present?’
