Chapter VII
VII
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Mo.”
“What fucking difference is that supposed to make?”
He was beginning to crack. This was their eleventh rendezvous, over the course of two months or so, and they were starting to fill their silences with conversation, and the conversations were leading to conflict. It was clear the guilt was eating him up inside. He was, after all, the married one.
“I’m not a bad guy. I’m just—”
“Kalu. It’s just you and me here. You and me. There isn’t an audience. You don’t have to perform goodness for anybody. I accept you. All of you.”
He rubbed his forehead and raised himself up.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate that I have turned you into a side chick.”
She bit her lip. “I hadn’t realised that’s what I was.”
“That’s…I didn’t mean to insinuate…”
“Mistress sounds more romantic.”
“But there’s a permanence to it…and you deserve so much more, Mo. You deserve to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“You couldn’t possibly be.”
“Speak for yourself. Don’t speak for me.”
He ran a hand over his head. “You’re a nutcase. You know that? Loony. You’d give it all up for a guy who’s not worth half what you’re worth.”
“You’re talking too much. It’s you and me. That’s all I know.”
“I don’t think we should keep doing this, Mo.”
“So you’ve had your fill?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I think it is what you’re saying.”
“Only if you are listening with cotton buds in your ears.” He’d stood up and was rapidly putting on his clothes. She watched him do his buttons up the wrong way as she stroked Sango with one hand. Then he paused and turned to her. “You’ve not even asked me if I am leaving her.”
“I…I suppose I never thought you were hers to begin with.”