can’t stop myself from turning back around to watch my husband. He’s still talking into his phone, his body language only slightly animated, and when he smiles and laughs I feel my stomach dip. Well, as long as he’s fine. He’s not letting what happened affect him. I feel angry, envious that he can just push it aside as if it never happened. I can’t do that. I can’t. I can’t pretend, like he can.
Without thinking I put down my drink and slip away into the hall. I go upstairs. I need a few minutes alone. Going into our room I head over to Michael’s side of the bed, crouching down in front of the small chest of drawers, and for a second I just stay there, I don’t move. Am I really doing this? Is this what it’s come to? Is this the woman I’m turning into?
I reach out and slowly slide open the top drawer, leaning forward to peer inside, but a sudden noise coming from the landing outside makes me jump. I almost fall backwards as I let go of the drawer handle and I have to grab hold of the duvet to steady myself. There are voices outside in the hallway and I realise now that it’s just friends from the party looking for the bathroom. My heart is still hammering away against my ribs.
Deep breath. Calm down, Ellie. I peer back inside the drawer. The contents are lined up neat and tidy – a couple of pens, a notebook, some papers he’s using to help his research. Michael’s writing another book and he likes to make notes before he goes to sleep.
I reach inside and lift up the notebook, but there’s nothing underneath it. Did I think there would be? I open it, still not entirely sure what I’m looking for, but I quickly flick through it anyway. And there’s nothing but page after page of Michael’s ridiculously neat handwriting. What was I expecting to find, exactly? I don’t know, because I’m not thinking straight. I just know that he’s hiding something from me. Again. Something’s going on. Michael’s behaviour – it’s familiar. He’s been like this once before. It’s happening again.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs up underneath myself, the noise and the chatter from the party drifting upstairs. I look at the picture of me and Michael hanging on the wall opposite our bed. One of our wedding photos, blown up and framed in all its perfect glory. Two smiling, incredibly happy people, madly in love. We had everything. We had it all, that perfect life, that exciting future ahead of us. Until it was all snatched away, just like that. We lost it all.
There was a time when I thought nobody knew me better than my husband. When I fell in love with Michael, I fell hard. I fell so hard, because I never thought a man like him could love someone like me. He was the charismatic one, the centre of attention. I was the adoring wife. But he’s underestimated me. You see, I’m not ready to lose my husband. So whatever’s going on, whatever he thinks he can hide from me, I’m going to find out what it is. Whatever it takes.
‘Do you want some breakfast?’
Michael throws a pile of files down onto the countertop and reaches for the coffee. ‘No, I don’t have time. I’m already late for a meeting with my research students. I’ll grab something at work.’ He takes a sip of coffee, slides a hand onto the small of my back. ‘And where are you going to be spending your day today?’
I turn to face him, his hand moving around to rest on my hip. ‘The spa.’
He smiles, and for a moment everything feels like it used to. He cups my cheek, leans in to kiss me slowly, and I close my eyes and take this moment because it’ll soon be over.
‘I’d better go.’ He steps back from me, throws me one last smile and grabs those files he’d discarded not thirty seconds ago. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
‘Hang on … Michael!’
He stops before he reaches the door, and I can tell from the way his shoulders sag that he’s frustrated. He just wants to get out of here.
‘How about I cook tonight? I’ll get a bottle of that wine you like, make you your favourite …’
‘What’s going on, Ellie?’
I’m actually quite stung by his question, by his tone of voice. It’s verging on suspicious, as though he thinks I’m doing this because I have some kind of ulterior motive. And maybe I do, but only because I’m trying to save something here. I’m trying to save us.
‘I want to cook my husband dinner. There’s nothing strange in that.’
‘You’ve just opened a new business, and when you open a new business you’re usually there more than you’re here. You don’t have time to cook dinner.’
‘I’m making time. Maybe I need to do more of that.’
He throws back his head and sighs quietly, backing off towards the door. ‘No, Ellie, you really need to stop this.’
‘Stop what, Michael?’
‘You’re fishing. I know you want to talk, but it’s over. Done. Finished. I don’t know how many times I can say that. And dragging it back up, it isn’t going to do anyone any good. So you need to stop pretending to be housewife of the year and let’s get back to normal. Okay? Let’s do that.’
I lean back against the counter. My fingers grip the edge. Tight. It makes me angry that he issues instructions and expects me to obey them. He thinks he can control how I’m feeling, but that isn’t his right. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do.
‘Ellie? Look at me.’
I do as he says. I raise my gaze and I look at him, right into his eyes. He has the most beautiful eyes. Piercing. Bright. Almost cobalt blue in colour. Eyes that looked into mine that first night we met, and I knew then that I wanted to be with him.
And his voice, it’s a little less harsh now.
‘We need to move on, Ellie. What happened …’
For a second there’s a connection. Something we very rarely have any more, but right now, I feel its brief but powerful presence.
‘It’s going to be okay. And I need you to believe that, Ellie. I can’t keep telling you, every day. So, I just need you to believe it. Believe me. Please.’
I want to believe him.
I watch as he drops his head, runs his hand along the back of his neck, and then he raises his gaze and his eyes lock on mine. ‘I understand that what happened – what I did … nobody expected you to get over it in a heartbeat, but you said you would. You wanted to. It’s been a while now. Hasn’t it? It’s been a while. Long enough.’
There’s that silence again.
‘You can’t let it take over, Ellie. You can’t, so please, let’s just try and move on. All right?’
He briefly drops his gaze again, and I hear him breathe in deeply, see his shoulders stiffen.
‘I need to go. I’m late.’
I smile and I nod, I let him think he’s won, but I know what he’s doing. I’m the one in control here, not him.
I
