Ill call her, I mutter, backing toward the hallway.
My lover rang. She sends her regards! Eleanor blurts, never taking her hands off the cooker where something familiar sizzles in the pan, as if it were a piece of our shared life.
Andrew freezes on the kitchen threshold. Twentyfive yearsour whole marriageflash before his eyes in an instant. The keys slip from his fingers, clatter on the floor, and the harsh metallic clang pierces the silence.
What are you talking about? A lover? his voice trembles, spilling the fear and turmoil of the past months. He feels the ground giving way beneath him.
Emily, your assistant, I think? Eleanor finally turns, arms crossed over her chest. Shes twentyfive, says shes been seeing you for four months now. Congratulations, love.
The pain in her eyes makes Andrew want to sink into the earthor to wake up, convinced its all a nightmare.
Irene, Ill explain he begins, but the words choke.
Explain? What exactly, Andrew? How you had fun with your secretary while I was running from one doctor to another? Or how you lied, saying you were working late?
The pan hisses, and the smell of burnt meat fills the kitchen. Eleanor flicks the gas off, as if that could stop the ache, the bitterness, the betrayal.
You know whats the most disgusting? she whispers, voice dropping. I guessed it. All those meetings, late calls, trips abroad I believed you, stupidly.
Ellen, listen Andrew steps toward his wife, but she thrusts a hand up, as if building an invisible wall.
Dont come any closer! tears flash. Lord, how filthy twenty years wasted!
Stop, he tries to steady himself, voice shaking. Lets talk calmly. Its complicated.
Complicated? Eleanor laughs, a sound that cracks into sobs. Whats complicated? You took a young lover. She swooped in. And me she chokes, just an old woman who cant have children, right?
Dont say that! He reaches for her again.
She twists away, as if burned. A sharp slap cracks the kitchens stillness.
Get out, she hisses, voice trembling. Get out to her. If she can give you what I never could.
Irene
Go! She snatches the salt cellar and flings it at him.
Andrew recoils; the salt spills across the floor, white crystals catching the lamps light. Bad omen, flashes through his mind.
Ill call her, he mutters again, retreating to the door.
Irene turns silently to the window, shoulders shaking as if cold, though the evening is warm.
In the hallway, pulling his coat on, he hears muffled wails. His hand freezes on the doorknob. What could he possibly say to justify the betrayal?
The front door thuds shut. The flat falls deafeningly quiet, save for the ticking of the wall clockhis parents wedding gift. It has been ticking for twentyfive years, counting the seconds of their life together.
Irene slowly sinks onto a kitchen chair, eyes landing on the scattered salt. They say it brings misfortune, she thinks, then bursts into a hysterical laugh. Her life, like those white shards, feels shattered across the dark floor.
Her coat pocket buzzes. She fumbles for the phone, reads a text from an unknown number:
Sorry. I didnt want it to end like this. Emily.
Wretch, she whispers, crushing the phone. Little monster
Outside, rain begins to patter, first drops striking the curtain rail as if an unseen xylophone plays a mournful tune.
She stands, grabs a broom and dustpan, and while scooping up the salt she ponders, I never even asked if shes expecting a boy or a girl
She pauses, clutching the dustpan. The rain, the ticking clock, the saltall meld into a relentless stream, as if her entire existence now lives in these tiny details. Nothing else remains.
Andrew sits in his car, staring at his phone. Fifteen missed calls from his motherobviously Irene, who always doted on her daughterinlaw.
What now? he asks his reflection in the rearview mirror. A tired fortyfiveyearold man looks back, judging.
The phone buzzes. Emily flashes on the screen.
Yes, love
Where are you? her voice trembles, on the brink of tears. I was so scared she was terrifying!
What? Andrew asks.
Your wife! She came to my office, threw a scene
When?
An hour ago she screamed at everyone, threw papers at me they were her test results.
He slumps his head onto the steering wheel, a groan escaping.
I didnt know Emily continues. I had no idea you couldnt have children. I thought you just didnt want
A flash of memory: I knew and still
Come over, she pleads. Im scared alone.
Im on my way, he mutters.
He turns the ignition, but the car wont move; the phone rings againhis mother.
Yes, Mum.
Ah, you wretch! What have you done? Lost your conscience?
Mum
Silence! Irene is crying, shes barely holding herself together after all these years. And youve run off with a youngster!
Im not Mum
Im done with you! Until you get your head straight, dont call, dont show up at the door!
She hangs up. Andrew drops the phone onto his lap; it feels suddenly heavy. The only sound is the faint rumble of the engine.
He looks at Irenes house. Warm light spills from the windows, but he cant go there now. He turns the key off. The engine sighs and dies, leaving him alone in a sudden, deafening silence.
A short beep sounds from the handset.
Dammit he whispers, pounding the steering wheel until his fingers cramp.
Another buzz: a message from Irene:
The divorce papers will be ready in a week. Collect your things at the weekend. Im leaving.
He reads it over and over. Divorce. Twentyfive years. Everything collapsed.
A fresh call comes inEmily.
Are you coming? My stomach hurts
On my way! he shouts, jerking the wheel as if it might tear him out of this nightmare.
Rain intensifies, wipers scraping feebly across the windshield, the city blurring into grey smears.
His phone buzzes againprobably his mother again. He doesnt even look. What difference does it make? Everything is already falling apart.
A year ago Emily started as an intern at his firm. Fresh, bright, eyes full of hope, looking at him the way Irene once did during their university days. Then a corporate party, a casual touch, and the rest unfolded. He remembered lying to his wife about late meetings, whisking Emily to restaurants, buying flowers, falling in love as if he were young again. He rented a flat for secret meetings, watching her glow with happiness, planning a future.
Fool, he thinks, staring at the slick road. Old fool.
The phone rings again.
This isnt Emily, says Irenes voice, oddly calm. Ive done a test. Guess what? Im expecting a baby too.
The world seems to freeze. A sudden crash of brakes, a thud, darkness.
Heart attack, a doctor says flatly. Plus traumatic brain injury. Condition serious.
Irene stands by the intensive care window, watching Andrews body tangled in wires and tubes. Emily sits beside her, her chubby face hidden in her hands, quiet sobs escaping.
Stop crying, Irene says, not looking up. Youre not in a drama.
Sorry Emily wipes her eyes, trying not to stare at Irenes swollen belly. Its its a baby.
Yes, of course, Irene snorts. A baby without a dad. How amusing. And Im without a husband. Nice, isnt it?
You you also? Emily stammers, eyes on Irenes barely visible stomach.
Did she get pregnant too? Irene jokes. Twentyfive years of nothing, and nowboom! Probably nerves.
The monitor beeps steadily. Rain taps the windows, a constant reminder that life outside continues.
You know, Irene says, still not moving her gaze from the motionless man, I loved him from the first day of university. He was skinny, glasses, everyone teased him. I saw the real him beneath the jokes.
Emily mutters, pulling at the edge of the curtain as if something behind it could save her.
Then came the wedding, the rings, the veileverything perfect. My mother even said, Shell be a good daughterinlaw. And I ended up faulty.
Dont say that, Emily whispers, voice as soft as a falling leaf.
How to speak? You know how many doctors Ive seen? How many procedures? He kept telling me, Dont worry, love, well manage without kids. He lied. He just lied.
He loves you, Emily says, though the words sound hollow.
Even when he used you? Irene laughs, a harsh bark. He was gentle, tender
And Im what then? Irene snaps, A nasty careerwoman wife? Childless?
No! Im not Emily trails off, lost for words.
You know whats the funniest? Irene interjects. I almost understand you. Young, in love saw a successful man, lost my head. I was that too. The catch? Hes already my husband.
Andrew shifts slightly in his bed. Both women lean forward, then fall silent.
What do we do now? Emily asks, breaking the hush.
What will you do? Irene murmurs, weary. Andrew will have two heirs or heiresses. What difference does it make?
And he? Emily presses.
Hell choose, Irene replies, a bitter smile curling. Either the old wife with baggage or the young lover with a bump.
Im not competing, Emily says, trying to pull herself out of the conversation.
Everyones competing, Irene cuts in. All of you. Listen, girl I loved you truly, to the point of madness. Now its over, like a breath of air. Thank you for that.
She steps to the door, closes it gently. A faint scent of her perfume lingersthe same she receives every wedding anniversary.
Andrew opens his eyes weeks later. The first thing he sees is his wife sitting on the bedside chair, hand resting on his belly. A flash of thought: How did I never notice?
Eleanor? his voice is hoarse, foreign to him.
She startles, eyes widening.
Showed up, handsome? she teases lightly. I thought you were off gallivanting with angels.
Sorry
Dont start, Irene snaps. My lawyer is here. I wont split the flatkeep the car, youll need it more. Ive quit my job.
What? Andrew tries to stand, panic flooding his face. Why?
Im moving back to Larkfield, to my parents, she says calmly, as if speaking about morning tea. The airs cleaner there. Better for the child.
Irene, dont
Its necessary, Andrew. You were rightIm a foolish old fool, not because I believed you, but because I was scared to live without you.
I love you, he whispers, as if the words could change anything.
You love? she nods, not looking at him. Probably, in your own way. Like a habit, part of life. I dont want to be a habit.
She stands, brushes off her dress as if shedding a weight.
Emily visited daily, cried, said shed give up all claims. Silly thing I gave her a good gynaes number and a realtor to find a bigger flat. A onebedroom will be tight with a baby.
You what? Andrew cant believe his ears, staring at his wife.
Whats the big deal? she shrugs. Were now in the same boatwell, the same position. Funny, isnt it? All those years of emptiness, and now suddenly two of us. They say misfortune never comes alone. Neither does happiness.
Outside, a spring thunderstorm rumbles, tearing the day into pieces.
Dont linger, Irene leans in, kisses his forehead gently, as if it were a simple, ordinary goodbye. Ive booked a cab, sent my things. Sign the divorce papers when you feel betterwhere else to rush?
Eleanor
You know, she pauses at the doorway, turns to him, I really loved you, madly, trembling now it feels like Ive let go, like Ive breathed in fresh air. Thank you for that. And thank you.
She slips out, quietly closing the door. A faint whiff of her perfume stays behind, the same scent he gave her every anniversary.
Andrew watches the window where spring rain mixes with snow, the March city glistening. Two women now carry his children in their heartsdifferent yet oddly alike worlds, two paths, one story.
He thinks, I wonder if the kids will be friends, or will they share everything
