Danika picks up her wineglass and leans back against the couch. “You’re right, of course. I’d have rejected the idea in about three seconds flat. I think I’m pretty open-minded, but I don’t think I’d have been open to sharing Chris.”
“He would have known that.” Her mum gets up and gets the wine and tips the rest into their glasses. “Do you want my suggestion, or do you want to work through this alone?”
“Please tell me what you think.”
Her mum lifts an elegant shoulder. “You want answers. Cami will no doubt want her sister. Even if you bury this deep and try to forget about it, I think it will come back on you through Kim and Bella. But I think you should take your time and make sure you can be open-minded about this. Kim is as much of a victim as you are—more so, even. Try not to take your anger out on her.”
The words swirl around Danika’s head, floating through the red wine haze. Her mother is right; she knows that. But letting go of anger and moving to understanding will be difficult. There’s no blueprint for this. She’s on her own. She gusts a sigh that comes from the bottom of her ribs.
“I had better stay over tonight after this wine. Is Mirza bringing Cami home?”
“Yes, luckily.” Danika takes a big gulp of wine. Her head is already spinning. “How about I find a second bottle, and you order takeaway?”
“Pizza,” her mum says, reaching for her phone. “It’s that sort of night.”
Chapter Eight
Kim
The blue RAV isn’t in the car park when Kim arrives on the last day of soccer, but Cami and her friend are already in a knot with other kids on the pitch. Kim looks around, but there’s no sign of Danika. She takes the steps up the grandstand two at a time and takes her usual seat. If Danika is here, she’ll find Kim if she wants to.
She takes the lid off her takeaway coffee. A second one for Danika sits on the bench beside her. Kim watches as Bella goes across to Cami and her friend, and then the three of them take off at a run toward the coach. Cami stops halfway, as if she’s heard something, then runs back to the rails. A brown woman Kim doesn’t know hands Cami shin guards. Cami slides them into her socks and rejoins her friends.
Maybe the woman is Cami’s friend’s mother. It makes sense that Danika shares the driving. Disappointment sits heavy in her stomach. She finishes her coffee and picks up Danika’s. No sense in letting it go to waste.
There’s a knife-like wind slicing through the slats of the grandstand. Kim finishes the coffee in four big gulps, stands, and picks up her bag. She’ll go to the café and work—answer emails, send out a couple of quotes, all the things she’s neglectedthis week. Running her own business is great for the freedom and independence, but it won’t be so great if her work dries up because she’s so flaky.
Two hours later, when she returns to the pitch, the blue RAV is in the car park and Danika is sitting at “their” spot in the grandstand.
Kim climbs up and sits next to her. There’s a half-metre gap between them. Close enough to talk comfortably, far enough away that Danika won’t feel crowded.
For a moment, they sit in silence. The wind curls around them, lifting the ends of Danika’s short brown hair. Her cheeks are ruddy with the cold, giving colour to her otherwise pale face. She stares straight ahead, looking over the pitch but not at it. Her gaze doesn’t follow the kids playing a friendly match to end the week. Kim waits. Danika will talk when she’s ready. Her hands twist in her lap.
It’s a few minutes before Danika looks across at her. One corner of her mouth lifts in a half-smile. “I barely slept last night. Luckily, Mirza brought the girls here today as Sylvie had to leave early. I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling.”
“I’m sorry,” Kim says, although she’s not sure for what. For a sleepless night? For inconveniencing Mirza? Or for being in a relationship with Danika’s husband for most of nine years?
“Around 4 am, I realised two things. The first is that I believe you, and I don’t blame you in any way. I think you are as much of…” She runs her hands over her short hair. “I don’t want to say ‘victim’. I don’t like that word. It implies we’re powerless, and I don’t think we are. But right now that word fits. So I think you are as much of a victim as I am.”
Kim scans Danika’s face, wondering what’s coming next. There’s a “but” in here; she can see it coming like a bowling ball down a hallway.
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Danika continues, “and to be honest, I’m struggling to deal with it—to figure out how to talk to you. I look at you and I see someone who took my husband away.” She studies her nails. They’re cut short, not buffed, as if she cut them with clippers. “And I didn’t even have the chance to take control of that because I didn’t know.” She looks up at Kim, and her eyes are sheened with moisture. “I didn’t know.”
“What would you have done if you did?” Kim asks.
One thin shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Given him an ultimatum, maybe. Or just taken Cami and left—although if he’d told me when he moved in with you, there might be no Cami.” She stares down at her feet. “Cami is keeping me going right now. I like to think I would have been strong, not begged him to stay—or ignored it. But hindsight is everything.” She glances across to Kim. “And of course, you didn’t know either. What would you have done?”
The million-dollar question. How often had Kim lain awake in the past few months asking herself exactly that?
“What I like to think I’d have done and what I might have actually done could be different. I like to think I’d have confronted him, demanded to meet you, and then if I saw you and he were happy together, I like to think I’d have stepped back. Kicked him out. Sent him back to you. But would I have been that honourable? I don’t know. I loved him.”
“So did I.” Danika sighs. “A love triangle. It’s like a romance novel.”
Kim looks across at her. She’s talking about a triangle pivoting around Chris, of course, but Kim’s mind has jumped to other options. Her lips twitch in a small smile.
“I’d like to stay in contact, if that’s what you want, too. But maybe we could take it slowly,” Danika says. “I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this. And the girls…” She falls silent.
Kim nods. “You’re not the only one wondering.” She huffs a laugh. “But I’ve had longer to come to this point.”
