April #2
Jesy: I started feeling weird about our emails. Not because of anything you did. Well, not really. But I realised despite how innocent they are, I am hiding them from Jerry.
Jesy: I’d close my laptop lid, angle my screen, clear my apps. And I don’t even know why, because anyone reading our mail would be bored to tears.
Brian: I concur. We’re exceedingly dull.
Jesy: Well. You are.
Jesy: Anyway. We had this really nice evening a couple of weeks ago. Just the two of us. And the guilt started eating away at me.
Brian: And you panicked.
Jesy: I panicked.
Jesy: I don’t think he’d understand, you know?
Jesy: Not to mention the times I’ve complained about him or allowed you to speak ill of him. I imagined him finding our messages and reading them and…
Brian: I get it, Jesy. But you messaged back today.
Jesy: Yeah…
Brian: So, what’s the thought process?
Jesy: I need a friend.
Brian: And the (well-meaning) busy bodies aren’t cutting it?
Jesy: …
Jesy: I feel like an awful person.
Jesy: I love my friends dearly. I’ve mentioned them before. Isla, my old boss. Penny, I’ve known since we were kids. I can and do tell them everything. But that’s a blessing and a curse.
Jesy: They’ve been with me through all the ups and downs of my marriage, and their opinion of Jerry is now cemented. There’s no changing it. Which means any time I have something to celebrate or a nice story to tell, it feels like I’m waving a giant banner saying see! He’s not all bad!
Brian: So, you want to gush about your husband to me?
Jesy: No. God, no.
Jesy: I just want to feel like I can without second guessing myself.
Brian: Your friends clearly love you, Jesy. Have you spoken to them about this?
Jesy: And say what? Thanks, but your concern is making me censor myself around you.
Brian: Why not exactly that?
Brian: What is it you’re scared of?
Jesy: I don’t know.
Brian: Seems to me that I might not be the person you need to talk to, Jesy.
Jesy: Yeah…
Jesy: Yeah, you’re right.
Brian: We’re gonna keep talking?
Jesy: Yeah, Brian. We’re gonna keep talking.
18 Apr | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Isla, Penny
Subject: Off my chest
Hey ladies.
I wanted to write this out as an email rather than hopping on chat so I can get all my thoughts out without interruption.
Let me start by saying that I know I’ve been acting odd these past few weeks, and make it clear it’s entirely because of my own actions.
The problem I’m having is that my marriage has become a source of friction between us.
And again, that’s on me. I’ve been thinking about our conversations, not only recently, but over the past eight years of my marriage. I can’t remember the last time I had something nice to say about him.
Before you jump to my defence, because I know you want to, I need to stress that there have been plenty of nice things I could have said.
Aye, him running to his ma with every complaint did my tits in, and it caused far too many arguments of which you’ve heard plenty.
But did you know when his mother pushed the birthday cake I made him to the floor so her own could take centre stage, he threw her out of the house and tossed her cake out with her?
I didn’t tell you that part.
Aye, he’s a selfish fucker sometimes, and you’ve seen the many times I’ve cried about being left to one side while he satisfies his own wants and needs.
But did you know that every month, he has a period survival kit waiting for me, full of emergency supplies, a good rom-com, chocolate and a new bottle of bubble bath?
I don’t tell you about those small things he does.
Aye, he makes comments about the clothes I wear and how much skin I reveal.
But did you know that on a night out with him when we were still dating, a guy pinned me against a wall and had his hand under my sinfully short skirt when Jerry found us? He beat that fucker to a pulp, soothed my tears, and vowed he’d never let it happen again.
I didn’t fucking tell you that part because… well, mostly I never wanted to think about it again. But also, because… I mean. After the honeymoon stage, I didn’t think you needed to know every sweet moment I shared with my husband.
Isla? I’d like to point out the last few times we’ve spoken about Ewan, it’s been complaints.
And that’s okay. I think everyone in the world is guilty of doing the same thing. We want to gush about our partners, and then they leave the toilet seat up once again after you begged them to please remember to put it down, and that is the feeling you’re left with.
Annoyance. Anger.
It doesn’t mean we love our partner any less. Just that the urge to vent is stronger than the urge to gush.
The problem now is that I’ve spent the past eight years venting and complaining so much that you don’t believe those good moments exist anymore.
And again, that’s on me.
But I’ve started second guessing your silences, or looking for things you’re not saying, and it’s driving me crazy. So, I’m going to say it plainly, and hopefully we can move past it.
I love Jerry.
I have no plans to leave him.
Our marriage is strained right now, it’s true. But it’s not fractured. If things change, and I feel like I cannot handle this new path he’s on, I will tell you, and I will graciously accept all the help I know you will offer me.
But right now, I need you to dial back the Jerry criticism just a little bit.
I love you both so much for having my back. For being ready to drag me out of the pits of hell if I need you to. Every girl needs friends like the two of you, and I am lucky that I get to call you mine.
Love you, girlies,
See you soon.
P.S Brian, the tech guy, is not a murderer. I asked. And I know a murderer wouldn’t just admit to it. But I trust him.
You have received an instant message from:
brIAN
Brian: Did you press send?
Jesy: I did.
Jesy: Thank you for reading it for me.
Brian: My pleasure.
Brian: If they are half the friends you say they are, then you have nothing to worry about.
Jesy: I hope you’re right.
You have received an instant message from:
PENNY
Penny: I’m so sorry. I love you.
Jesy: What? Oh, no, please don’t be sorry. You have nothing to apologise for.
Penny: No. I do. I remember in high school when you hated Sam, and I never knew if I could talk to you about him or not.
Penny: It didn’t occur to me that I was doing the same thing to you.
Penny: You can always talk to me. And I wish you had told me those stories about Jerry.
Jesy: I know. I’m sorry.
ISLA has entered the conversation.
Isla: Dammit, you got there before me. My apology seems lame now.
Penny: Snooze you lose.
Penny: I’m the better friend.
Isla: My apology comes with the offer of a girls only trip. I’m clearly the better friend.
Jesy: A trip?
Isla: Aye! Drop everything. The three of us are going for a weekend trip to the Lake District.
Penny: Ohh, swapping one slice of heaven for another, huh?
Isla: Exactly, ma petite amie.
Jesy: We’re going to England, not France.
Isla: But we’re already speaking English. Doesn’t feel like a getaway if we don’t struggle with the language.
Isla: But does that mean you’re coming?
Jesy: Hell yeah, I’m coming. It’s going to be a blast.
24 Apr | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: Well?
I’m dying to know. How was the girls’ trip?
24 Apr | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Well?
Somehow, I’m alive!
And I know that sounds dramatic, but there were multiple points this weekend where I thought I might die.
What was pitched to me as a girlie weekend getaway to enjoy the peace and solitude of a cabin by the lake, was actually a plot to murder me and make it look like an accident.
I can’t prove it yet, but I’m almost positive.
Lemme paint you some facts.
Firstly, a cabin by the lake, this was not. I was picturing a cosy little lodge with a wee porch we could sit on, bundled up in oversized blankets while we wait for our nails to dry and admire the view.
So, imagine my complete and utter surprise when we rolled up to ‘Adventure Playground’, and I saw a long zipline above my head and a sign daring me to brave the heights.
But, oh, it did not stop there.
I’ve climbed rocks I had no business being on. I raced across the lake in a kayak I’m not sure was up to standard. And then, to top it all off, we went for an off-road thrill ride in a 4x4, also known as a death trap.
In all of her wisdom, the woman formerly known as my friend, Isla, thought that this was exactly what we needed to reforge our friendship after our minor blip.
I ache in places I didn’t know I could ache. I have bruises everywhere. My nails are non-existent, my clothes have holes in them, and I’m almost certain I have a broken bone… Somewhere. There’s no reason for me to hurt this much otherwise.
I am not an athletic person, Brian. I know for some people, being out in the sun and fresh air, pushing your body to its limits, is exhilarating.
Not me.
The only reason I want to run is to chase down the ice cream van. I’m a creature of comfort. And those comforts don’t include workout gear.
And I know I should do better. I know I should take better care of myself. But in my nearly thirty years on this planet, I have accepted who I am as a person, many flaws and all.
So, you tell me why we’d go there if not for my friends to murder me in some elaborate scheme?
24 Apr | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: RE: Well?
There’s this thing people partake in called fun.
Is it at all possible that your friends were trying to get you to have fun rather than become the star of a murder mystery?
Especially as you are, in fact, not murdered.
24 Apr | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Well?
A minor detail.
24 Apr | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: RE: Well?
A pretty major detail, actually.
24 Apr | From: Jesy Pattinson | To: Brian Trainer
Subject: RE: Well?
Oh, because you just know everything, do you?
Whose side are you on anyway?!
24 Apr | From: Brian Trainer | To: Jesy Pattinson
Subject: RE: Well?
I know the difference between alive and dead, which is the important distinction right now.
But, what the hell, I have nothing better to do right now, I’ll indulge you.
Just gimme a second to get into character.
You have received an instant message from:
brIAN
Brian: Oh! My! God!
Brian: I can’t believe you’re alive right now.
Brian: Your friends were so totally plotting your murder.
Jesy: So, when you said getting into character, you meant a teenage valley girl with a flair for the dramatics? I’m not judging. It’s just…
Jesy: It’s a choice.
Brian: You’re lecturing me about having a flair for dramatics?
Jesy: Not a lecture. An observation is all.
Brian: Uh-huh. And you don’t think that, perhaps, I might have picked up this particular character trait from somewhere?
Jesy: Nowhere I can think of.
Brian: I see.
Brian: You had fun then?
Jesy: Yeah. I had the best time.
Jesy
Brian is typing.
I chew my lip as I wait for his response, finding myself leaning towards the screen of my laptop.
The house is quiet. I’m bundled under a big blanket, and I’ve just spent the evening giggling to myself as Brian and I exchange messages.
I like that he indulges me.
Normality has been creeping into the house over the past month.
Thomas is finally in the spare room and out of my bed.
Jerry has stopped falling asleep in random places and is back where he belongs, next to me.
And the bottles of alcohol in the bin have reduced from twelve bottles a month, to seven.
So, small victories.
Of course, the more Jerry gets back to normal, the guiltier I feel about my correspondence… my friendship with Brian. There is no reason not to tell him. Absolutely no reason. And yet, as strong arms wrap around me, and a deep voice rumbles in my ear, I close the laptop lid like a bad habit.
“Who are you talking to?” Jerry asks, his hand slipping under my robe to cup my breast.
“Oh, just some guy I met online,” I reply, deliberately flippant. He chuckles in my ear as his fingers tweak my nipple.
“Is that so? Lucky for you, I’m not the jealous type, hm?”
I lean back further in my chair, arching my back towards his wandering hand, offering myself to him.
“Lucky indeed,” I murmur as he tilts my head back and his lips crash into mine.
I didn’t lie.
He asked, and I told him the truth, however vague it was.
And yet, as he lifts me from the chair, carrying me to our bed, I can’t find my usual enthusiasm. In the back of my mind, the same accusation repeats itself, over and over, until guilt drowns out desire.
Cheaters hide things, too.