“He’s using you.”
“If anything,I’musinghim.Or we’re using each other.”
“But the power imbalance…I mean, what happens when his wife comes home? Because she will.”
“You don’t know that.” It comes out much more defensively than I intend, with the end result of me sounding like a kid on the playground trying to tell off the school bully.
“This is a marriage, Abby. They’ve been together for decades. Plural. She won’t throw all that away because she likes the weather in Spain—nobody cares that much about a little rain.”
“I found a draft separation agreement in his house a few weeks ago. And she might be having an affair. I think their marriage is over.”
“Adraftagreement?Mightbe having an affair? Youthinkit’s over? Listen to yourself! You’re grasping at straws. Have you actually asked him what’s going on with them?”
All I can do is stammer, because the truth is he’s right: I have no idea if that piece of paper I saw went straight into the recycle bin. I have no idea if she’s cheating on him. It may seem like they’re on the brink of divorce, but I have no actual idea if Claire will ever come back, because Lachlan never discusses it. And I never ask.
Josh presses his advantage. “So now it’s your turn to play it out: The wife comes home, she finds you living in her house with her husband, sharing his food and laughing with him until all hours of the night—what happens to you in this situation?”
“Maybe she’s really cool.”
“And maybe she rips out a chunk of your hair.”
I have to laugh, but it’s a heartbeat away from tears.
“I’m just saying you have to protect yourself. I don’t want this to be another Steven situation, where he gets whatever he wants and you just roll over and let it happen.”
“Jeez, tell me how you really feel.”
He brushes past this remark because he’s building to a crescendo. “You need to stand up for yourself. Be vocal about whatyouwant.”
“Thisiswhat I want.”
“Really, Abby? A sexless relationship with a man you know you can’t have?That’swhat you want?”
I have no response to this, because his words hit too close to the bone. I hadn’t ever articulated it to myself so clearly; trust the English teacher to find the perfect, knife-twisting sentence. My shock must flash across my face because Josh sighs and puts his hands on my arms. “You know I hate to be like this. I hate to use Teacher Voice on you. And maybe I’m totally wrong and this is just a really good friendship and eventually you’ll find a great new roommate or start dating someone and Lachlan’s wife will come home and you’ll all be jolly old pals. Maybe that will happen—Ihopethat will happen. But if it doesn’t, I want to make sure that at the end of it, you’re not left homelessandout of a jobandbroken-hearted, three thousand miles away from everyone who loves you.”
It’s a thought that’s been present in the back of my mind for months: how quickly this could all crumble. Not just my relationship with Lachlan, but everything. My fragile little heart is suspended over a dizzying precipice, balanced atop this new life I’ve built for myself with shaky hands and determination born of God-knows-what. If it all falls apart, what will happen to me?
My voice is thin and feeble and full of fear. “What do you think I should do?”
“Move out, for one. Go back to the Iqbals’ if you have to, but get out of his place.”
“But the Iqbals are so far away. And I can’t take another Fiona and Oliver situation.”
“Okay, then you have to start dating.” He sees the look on my face and bugs his eyes out at me. “Not datinghim,idiot. Start dating other people. Get back out there. Do the things on Erica’s List. Go meet men who aren’t married and maybe even aren’t world-class soccer players.”
The thought fills me with a corporeal, leaden dread. I was on the apps before Steven and I never want to go back. Not to that parade of underwhelming men, the soul-destroying tedium of conversations about how your weekends were, the untenable cycle of getting your hopes up and having them inevitably dashed. “I’m not ready.”
“I’m not saying you have to start something serious, I just think it could be a helpful reminder to both of you that you are not together and neverwillbe together. And a helpful reminder to you that there is life after Steven, but it’s not as the platonic live-in mistress of Lachlan Ramsay.”
“Well, there’s a job title I won’t soon be putting on my résumé.”
He pulls me into a hug, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “You know I only say this because I love you, Abs.”
“I wish you loved me fifty percent less.”
“Not possible.” He lets me go and we just stand there. All around us, the streetlights are flickering on as the city falls into darkness. Josh holds out his elbow. “Come on, take me back before I fall asleep.”
I link my arm in his and steer us to the home I know I can’t let myself call my own.
