Chapter 7 Richard
RICHARD
I sit in my car outside my house. Ashley’s car is parked close by.
I thought sending her a message to let her know I’d drop by to pick up some of my things was polite.
Clothes, mostly. I deliberately decided to do it during the day, when she’d be at work, but it looks like she has other ideas.
Paul gave me the day off so I could sort my life out.
Technically, he told me to take a few days, but I promised I’d be in on Monday, as it’s Friday, and then I’ll have the weekend.
He looked at me like I was from Mars, then sighed and sent me on my way.
Maybe I’ll feel different come Monday morning, after four nights in a soulless hotel room.
I get out of the car, lock it, and trudge to the front door. I go inside and head towards the stairs. I’ll need to grab a suitcase from the loft first.
“Richard.”
I freeze but don’t look in the direction of Ashley’s voice. My guess is she was in the lounge. She must have seen me arrive and sit outside for ten minutes, gathering the courage to enter.
“I’m only here to grab a few things,” I say.
“We need to talk.”
I hunch my shoulders. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. I could ask her how many ‘mistakes’ she made, but that seems childish. It also wouldn’t change anything. Once. Twice. A dozen times. It doesn’t matter.
“I applied for a divorce this morning. You should get the paperwork soon. You’ll have fourteen days to reply,” I say.
I was amazed that I was able to complete the application online, without needing to see a solicitor. I was less thrilled at how long the whole process takes.
“Already?”
“Yes. What was the point in waiting? I told you last night I wanted a divorce. I meant it.”
Footsteps approach. I tense.
She puts her hand on my arm. “So that’s it then? You decide we’re getting a divorce, and it happens just like that?”
“No. Once you’ve agreed to the divorce, we have to wait twenty weeks before we can apply for a conditional order.
” I’m surprised she doesn’t know all of this, considering she works for a law firm.
Maybe she does. Perhaps she just wants me to spell it out for her.
“And then we have to wait six weeks and one day after that’s been granted to apply to end our marriage. ”
She strokes my arm. “So we have plenty of time to talk and work things out. Which will be easier if you’re here.”
I pull away from her. “I won’t change my mind.” I go upstairs.
She follows. “Don’t be ridiculous, Richard. You’re not going to throw our whole relationship away.”
I use the blunt end of the loft stick to open the loft hatch and the hooked end to pull the loft ladder down. I turn on the light and climb up the rungs. The suitcases are within reach. I grab a battered one, which I’ve had since I went to university, and bring it down.
I take it to the bedroom, lay it on the bed, and open it.
“You’re being childish,” Ashley says.
I clench my teeth, shake my head, and start pulling my clothes out of drawers. I toss them into the suitcase without care. I want to get this job done as fast as possible and get out of here.
“I don’t want a divorce,” she says.
“Well, I do.” I regret snapping instantly. “And not wanting a divorce isn’t good enough grounds for refusing to do it.” According to the government website on the matter, anyway.”
“You’ll come to your senses.”
“I slept with someone last night.”
She gasps and stares at me. “You—what?”
“I slept with someone last night.”
“Revenge sex?”
“No. It wasn’t like that.”
She folds her arms. “Liar. You wanted to hurt me, so you went out and fucked the first person you saw. Well, I guess we’re even now.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Even more reason why we shouldn’t get divorced. We both had a moment of indiscretion. We’ve got it out of our systems now, so we can start over.”
Except I’d never have looked at another person if I hadn’t already realised our marriage was over. Or am I making excuses? Am I as bad as her? I shut the drawer with a bang and move to the wardrobe.
“Will you stop doing that and talk to me!” Ashley says.
“No. I told you, we’ve got nothing to talk about.”
She sits on the bed and cries. Loud, ugly sobs that seem more like crocodile tears than anything. Am I being unkind? Probably.
I stop what I’m doing and turn to her. “Don’t cry.”
“What do you expect me to do? You want to divorce me!”
I hold my hands out, palms up, fingers splayed.
What did she expect me to do? See her having sex with another man and shrug my shoulders and say, ‘Okay, no big deal’?
I keep the thought to myself. I don’t want to play her game of piling guilt on and then twisting the knife. I’ve said all I needed to say.
I drop my hand to my sides and then resume packing my clothes, while Ashley continues to cry. Am I a complete dick for not comforting her? Possibly.
I grab a few essentials: my shaving things, phone charger, laptop, and the tie pin I was given by my department when I graduated with my PhD. After squishing everything into the suitcase, I zip it up.
“I’m going.”
Ashley looks up sharply, sobs ceasing. She stands and wraps her arms around me, clinging to me as she kisses my jaw. I tilt my face up, denying her access to my lips.
I put my hands on her shoulders and push her gently away. “Stop.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know.”
“So stay.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re supposed to love me.”
“I did. I do. But sometimes, love isn’t enough.” My heart hurts so much. My throat is raw. My voice, broken. But my resolve is solid. “Goodbye, Ashley.”
She wails and drops to the floor dramatically, shoulders shuddering, hands covering her face.
I pick up the suitcase and walk out. She doesn’t follow me.
I put the suitcase in the boot of my car, drive around the corner, park, and cry.
Five years married. Together for ten. Now it’s all over.
If only I hadn’t let Paul talk me into leaving work early last night.
I clench my fists. No. I can’t think like that.
It wouldn’t have changed what Ashley was doing behind my back.
I needed to know, no matter how much it hurts.
I arrive at the hotel an hour later. I put my suitcase in the corner of the room.
I should unpack. My work shirts will already be wrinkled.
It’s not a requirement to wear shirts at work—a lot of the lecturers dress casually—but I prefer to.
I don’t want to unpack. What I should do is start looking for somewhere more permanent to live.
I should have talked to Ashley about the house.
I can’t keep paying half the mortgage on a home I no longer live in.
Can she afford the mortgage alone? Is it my problem?
Unfortunately, yes, while my name is on the mortgage alongside hers, it is my problem.
It’s something we can figure out another day when things are less raw.
I dial Mum. Thankfully, she answers quickly.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Richard. Shouldn’t you be at work? Is everything all right?”
I sigh. Tears prickle my eyes once more. I’m on an emotional knife-edge. “I’ve applied for a divorce.”
“A—what?” The shock in her voice is palpable.
“A divorce.”
“Why?”
I press my quivering lips together. “Things—” My voice cracks. “Things just weren’t working out.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I can’t speak.
“Have you tried counselling?”
I shake my head, even though Mum can’t see the action. Tears drip down my cheeks.
“Every relationship encounters a rough patch sooner or later.”
She should know. How many rough patches did she and Dad have? Every single time she found out he’d cheated, they had a ‘rough patch’. She even threw him out once or twice, only to let him come home a few days later. Dad was a real charmer.
“Don’t you think getting divorced is a bit extreme?”
“No,” I manage to croak out. “It’s for the best.”
“Can you drive? Never mind. I’ll come to you.”
“You don’t need to come.”
“Of course I do.” She sounds adamant.
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
“Where are you? At home?”
I sigh. “No. I’ve moved out.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Where are you staying?”
“In a hotel.”
“Why don’t you come and stay here for the weekend?”
“I’m fine.” Will she believe me if I keep saying it?
“You don’t sound fine.”
“All right. I’m upset. But I don’t need you to come rushing up here. I’ll come visit soon, once I’ve figured things out.”
I rub the heel of my hand over my thigh as I wait for Mum to respond. She takes her time. No doubt she’s absorbing what I’ve said, and possibly what I haven’t.
“I really think I should come and see you,” she says eventually.
“There’s no need.”
“You and Ashley seemed so happy. You’ve been together for—”
“Ten years.”
“Why would you throw ten years of happiness away?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I could tell her the truth, but I’m afraid of opening old wounds.
Mum took Dad back every time he cheated.
She claimed she forgave him—and maybe she did.
But I watched her get more broken as time went on.
I saw the hurt settle in the lines on her face and the grey in her hair.
I watched Dad’s repeated betrayals age her and diminish the sparkle in her eyes.
I do not want to be the reason those memories get dredged up.
“We’re not in love anymore.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand, Richard.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She clucks. “You don’t need to apologise. I want to be there.”
“There’s no need. I’ll come visit soon.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I am.” I push determination into my voice.
“Take care, love. I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I know. Thanks, Mum. Bye.” I hang up and hug the phone to my chest.
I’m hollow and washed out inside. I’m at a loss for what to think or how to feel. Grief? Anger? Love? Hate? All of that and more? Am I supposed to want to get drunk? Want to get laid?
Angus. His salacious grin materialises in my head like a beacon of temptation.
I have his number. I could call him and ask him to distract me again.
Except, I shouldn’t, for all the reasons I should have never so much as had a drink with him last night.
But I did, and I have an urge to do so again, as if sex with a hot twenty-two-year-old will ease my pain, or, at the very least, numb it.
I shouldn’t call him.
I can’t call him.
Besides, it’s the middle of the day, he’ll probably be in lectures, or busy doing something or other.
Plus, I have things to do. Find somewhere to live, for a start. Right. I’ll do that. See? I can make sensible decisions.
Sometimes.