Despite his protests, I insisted that Gary went to the surgery on Monday. After a phone call to the Head, Graham, to say I wouldn’t be in, I drifted in and out of sleep that morning but, thankfully, had no more toilet dashes. By lunchtime, I felt a lot more human and managed to shower, dress and tentatively nibble on a slice of dry toast. I didn’t want to go back to bed, but I had to accept that I had neither the energy nor the inclination to clean the house or mark any schoolwork. An afternoon of lying on the sofa watching films was definitely in order.
Sarah had loaned me a crate full of romcom DVDs, which I’d spotted when I’d helped her move into Nick’s the previous weekend. I flicked through the titles, some new, some old, some of which I’d seen many times. I paused as I lifted an old one out and stared thoughtfully at the cover, my memory banks trying to retrieve the story. Was it too close to home? I chewed on my lip as I rummaged further. Oh my goodness. Another one. I pulled it out too. Holding the two DVDs, one in each hand, I debated whether I was brave enough to watch them. Sod it. I could do this. Maybe they’d help.
‘Li! What’s wrong? Have you been sick again?’ Gary crouched by my side; his dark eyes full of concern as he placed his hand on my forehead.
I wiped my eyes and dropped the soggy tissue to the floor where it lay with a pile of fifteen or so others. ‘Film,’ I whispered.
Gary sat back on his heels and laughed. ‘You’re crying at a film? I thought something was really wrong.’
‘It is.’ I grabbed another tissue and blew my nose. ‘Us. We’re wrong. The films prove it.’
‘What the hell have you been watching?’ Gary reached for the DVD boxes. ‘The Object of My Affection. The Next Best Thing. Urgh. You’ve been watching a Madonna film? No wonder you’re crying.’
‘Read the blurb,’ I muttered, slowly twisting on the sofa into a seated position.
Gary sighed and flipped both the films over. He read the blurbs out loud then turned to me and shrugged. ‘I’m not getting it. Is this about you wanting a baby?’
I shook my head. ‘They’re gay. The male leads in both films are gay. They have a relationship with the female lead and it doesn’t work out.’ A fresh torrent of tears broke free as Gary slumped onto the sofa beside me and drew me into his embrace. This time, I responded, clinging onto him tightly, desperate to cling on to us.
‘Oh, Li! What have I done to us?’
When my sobbing subsided, I made no attempt to pull away from Gary. Lying against his chest as he stroked my hair felt so familiar. Comfortable. Normal. Yet nothing was ‘normal’ about our situation anymore, was it?
‘Are you going to leave me?’ I whispered.
Gary didn’t say a word, but I felt his heartbeat quicken.
‘Are you going to leave me for Rob?’
He kissed the top of my head. ‘Do you want me to go?’
I sighed. ‘Don’t put that on me. I asked you a reasonable question.’
The silence was excruciating. Eventually he sighed and said, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do right now.’
‘Do you still love me?’
He tightened his embrace. ‘I’ll always love you.’
‘Do you love Rob?’
He stiffened. ‘I don’t know how to answer that.’
‘There’s only two answers: yes or no.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘No. Nothing ever is, is it?’ I untangled myself from his embrace, picked up the discarded tissues, deposited them in the bin, then trudged upstairs to the comfort of my duvet.
He still loved me, or so he claimed, but the fact that he hadn’t said no when I’d asked him if he loved Rob gave me one very clear message: he loved Rob too, or thought he might. Did I have the strength to fight another man for my husband’s affections? And, even if I did, was my husband worth fighting for anymore? If he’d lied to me about his sexuality since school or college – which I strongly suspected he had – I wasn’t sure I had enough fight in me or that our marriage was a prize worth winning.
6
✉︎ From Sarah
How are you feeling? Did you go back to work today as hoped? I’m guessing you’ll be too tired to come into town for our usual Wednesday meet-up. Happy to come to you instead after I close up, if you can cope with a visitor xx
✉︎ To Sarah
Yes, back to work today and feeling much better, but very tired. Would love to see you tonight. If you don’t mind salad, you’re welcome to join me for tea xx
✉︎ From Sarah
Salad sounds perfect. Got to diet for my wedding – eek!!! See you at about 6pm Got lots of wedding ideas I want to run by you xx
‘Thanks for coming round here instead.’ I led Sarah into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. ‘I don’t think I’d have made it into town. I can’t believe how exhausted I feel.’
‘It’s a nasty virus,’ she said. ‘I’ve had several customers saying they’ve been struck down with it and some of them have been wiped out for weeks.’
I lifted two mugs out of the cupboard. ‘Sounds like I got off lightly, then, with just a few days.’
‘I bet it’s great being married to a doctor when you’re ill. How is Gary? It’s a shame he couldn’t make it to the party.’
I stiffened at the mention of his name and swallowed a few times while I busied myself with opening a new box of fruit teabags. Sarah had just given me the perfect opener but I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’d contacted Dad, Jess, Sarah and even Stevie to let them know I was poorly but I hadn’t breathed a word about my marriage being on the rocks. I knew they’d be supportive, but they’d be shocked and they’d understandably have questions. Questions to which I didn’t have answers.
‘He’s fine,’ I said, tossing teabags into our mugs. ‘He’s at a staff meeting then they’re going to The Peking Duck to celebrate the surgery expansion being almost complete.’ I handed Sarah her mug and we sat at the kitchen table. ‘Enough about Gary. What about you and the wedding? Date? Venue? Dress ideas?’ She’d longed for this day for years. It wasn’t fair of me to ruin her moment and it would be good to have something positive to talk about.
Sarah grinned. ‘The venue’s easy. I’ve got my heart set on Sherrington Hall and we’ve got an appointment on Sunday.’
‘I love Sherrington Hall. Good choice.’ Sherrington Hall was an ivy-covered Georgian manor house perched on the cliff top about twelve miles south of Whitsborough Bay. I’d attended a colleague’s wedding there a few years before. With acres of landscaped grounds on three sides and the sea on the other, I’d describe it as fairy-tale perfection. ‘I’d imagine it gets booked up well in advance, though.’
‘That’s the problem,’ Sarah said. ‘We were hoping for May next year, but I don’t think we stand much chance. Nick’s suggested we consider other venues, but the thought of holding our reception anywhere other than Sherrington Hall actually makes me feel queasy.’