“I still love you.”
All I hear is her silence and the call cuts. She hung up on me.
Rule 1: calm down. Women are dramatic. Women are too dramatic.
Typical of Isabelle. Always avoiding emotional talks. And where was she? That background noise I heard sounded like she was in a club or bar or restaurant. Should I even care? Our marriage is over anyway so I might as well mind my own business. Will I ever? I married the woman so I had love for her obviously. I still do if I’m still declaring my love for her.
Maybe I should call her friend and ask her where Isabelle is. Then again Isabelle is secretive. Always has been. Even in our marriage she kept hiding things. Well that was then. I should move on. I don’t know why I keep going back to the woman. It’s her fault. She keeps me waiting when she’s made it clear she still wants out. I’m the foolish man here. A broken marriage is tougher to handle.
A broken marriage. Wasn’t the marriage broken from the words I now pronounce you as Husband and Wife? I ask myself. Why did I marry her? Why did she marry me? Did we even try to make it work? I admitted to my share of the cause of our marriage breaking but she still can’t accept she caused it too. What kind of a woman was she? I head to the kitchen, I need a drink. A strong drink.
Rule 2: Acceptance always goes with a drink or a lady friend or both depending on the situation.
Three drinks later and a recorded soccer game I still feel restless. She’s on my mind. I can’t believe I am still thinking about her. I need to figure out something else to do. I pick up my phone and dial a number. I know the number by heart. This needs to change. I hear her voice after the first ring.
“Hello.” She says. She sounds sleepy maybe I should have called someone else.
“Hey. I’m home… and.. uh… I need some company. If you are free that is. I know it’s late but…..”
“Sure.. I’ll be there. I’ll call you.”
The things I do for companionship. I cut the line and head to my bedroom for a bath.
Thirty minutes later I hear a knock at the door. She’s here. Why am I not excited? I get to remove all my anger and frustrations now. But I’m not happy. Why? I open the door and I freeze. Have you ever had sadness ripped out of your chest and to replaced by an emotion you can’t describe. A mixture of excitement and something stronger. Love? Maybe. There she stands. Brown eyed, long brown curly hair, slim femme fetale. In her white shirt and pants and black heels. Oh no, I wasn’t expecting her. I look behind her to see no one else coming to the door. What the hell is she doing here. What if??
“Hey. What are you doing here?” I ask as I stand aside to let my wife in. I close the door and look at her. “Are you okay?”
She’s looking at me, gosh I realise in that moment that I’ve missed this woman. She is beautiful. She walks up to me.
“Don’t judge me but I am here for this…. ” She whispers and she kisses me.
So this what love feels like. When the lips of the woman you love touch yours and you feel them burn you to your very soul. You can’t help yourself but respond to the kiss. I need her. She is my wife. She is everything. It’s my fault she left. Maybe I can get her back. Maybe I could……..
Rule 3: Never get caught
I watch her sleep, she always faced me when she slept. She couldn’t bear looking at the wall in the middle of the night if she had a nightmare so she focused on me. She’s beautiful. I slowly turn and reach out for my phone on the bedside table. Freaking 15 missed calls from her, 15 missed call message notifications and one message from her.
I have to call her but I can’t with Isabelle here. I’ll wait till morning. I’ll have to make it up to her for this mess. I put my phone back on the table and turn to face Isabelle. Nothing matters but her for now.
I slept next to the woman for years. So I know her well. I know the way she thinks. Probably about to start using one of her stupid rules right now. She’s getting off the bed. I watch her wear my t-shirt. She has no idea I’m awake. I could watch her all morning but I know she wants to leave. She always does this and I allow her to use me whenever she needs a love making session. And the next day she’s gone. I need to talk to her.
“Good Morning.” I say as I stretch.
She turns around and looks at me. She’s not happy I’m awake.
“Morning.” She says.
“You are up early. You okay?” I ask.
She shrugs. Back to the I don’t care about you again wife.
“Well that didn’t last long.” I say my thought out loud. Shit.
“What do you mean?” She asks.
I stand up and she turns around. Scared of my nakedness or scared you will like what you see. She acts like she’s never seen me naked before. She’s complicated. I pick up my shorts from the floor and wear them.
“You do know you came to me right. Last night.” I say
She turns around and faces me.
“I was drunk.” She says. What a load of crap from her mouth. I know her inside out. Literally.
“Oh c’mon. I know when you are drunk.”
“I should leave. I have work. I have to go home.”
“So who got to you this time?” I ask. We both know it’s someone else. She’s still the same. After all this time my wife is still the same woman I hated once.
“You do know whenever you go out, you somehow end up here. Not high. But ready enough to open your legs.”
“Look we can talk about this later. I have to go.” She responds.
“Sure. Who am I to stop you.” I say as I walk up to her. “You do as you please. I’m just the victim of the night.” All the time. I’m so sick of this.
“Please don’t pretend. You enjoyed it as much as I did. I didn’t see you stopping me from kissing you. Undressing you. Or giving you the pleasure of your life.”
Of course I did. I slept with my wife. The Mother of my children.
“Are you saying you did me a favour?”
“No. I’m not. I’m just saying why should I go around sleeping with every Jim and Jack when I have an Isaac out there.”
“Are you kidding me? So you used me?”
“No. To be honest. I missed a part of what we had.”
I keep silent. Her eyes look away from mine. She’s lying. She never could lie to me.
Rule 4: Never argue with a woman. Rattle her up. See what she says.
“I love you.” I say suddenly.
She looks at me, then looks away.
“I love you too. This was a mistake like the other times. I still want a divorce.”
Bingo. There is it. She’s lying but then which part?
“You want this divorce right?” I ask “Then bring your family this weekend. I’ll bring mine and we can sit down and discuss everything. Including our child.”
She looks at me and I see her defiance ebb away.
“You mean our dead children? The twins. Who we buried years ago right. Because they were premature?”
“No. I mean our child who you aborted months ago.” I say slowly.
There I said it. Now what.