An Ending. A Beginning.

They sit in the bedroom after an argument, the air is thick with tension, they can’t look at each other. They both love each other, or at least they think so, so how could it have come to this- a showdown in their own three bed semi in the suburbs. Fifteen years of marriage, but is it just something they’re doing for the kids? Is it easier to stay together than to split? Is that what has got them to this point? He thinks he’s in love with a girl from work. That girl gets him, she’s smart and funny, she likes the same films, art, music as he does. He’s never shared cultural tastes with his wife, and that’s important to him- it wasn’t when they met, started going out, slipped into engagement, had the fairy tale wedding, when the first child came into the world, when the second came into the world. Or wasn’t it? At some point during all of that it became very apparent to him that it WAS important. But when?

He’d already had an affair several years prior to this, but in that case it had nothing to do with music, less to do with films, and exactly nothing to do with art. She was nothing more than an easy lay- someone who wanted him, and wanted nothing from him other than sex. He was working away from home alot, and his wife’s sex drive had diminished almost to nothing, but he was still a man, he still had needs, and she came along at precisely the right time. Or was it the wrong time. His wife had never found out about what had happened- it had only gone on for a few weeks before the guilt had started to eat him up. It was only when he began to lose his erection mid way through the sex that it occurred to him that the guilt was lurking in the back of his mind. His wife was a good women. Sure, they’d grown apart somewhat, but she’d always been faithful, she was an excellent mother, and kept an exceptionally tidy home, despite working herself. As wives go he’d found a good one, and despite how they’d got to this point, there was still a part of him that loved her. It was that last thought that was coursing through his mind on the last occasion he’d met up with her. She’d acted distraught when he’d broken the news that he was calling it off, but he knew she was seeing someone else anyway, so she’d soon get over it. Damn, how the hell did he end up risking his marriage- his LIFE- with such a slut. He meant nothing to her, nothing other than a handy fuck and free meals in nice restaurants.

So he finished it. He went home, he held his wife, she was glad of the attention, but was surprised by it nonetheless. The man she was married to went to work that morning, but the man she fell in love with came home that night. And that night they shared some of the most intimate moments of their marriage. Suddenly he was an attentive lover, where before he was looking for the means to an end. He paid attention to her, and in return she paid attention to him. She lost herself to the feeling, to the moment, in a way that she hadn’t done for years. And afterwards, when he went for a shower, she laid in bed and wept. Then she outright cried. She cried with relief.

Of course, it wasn’t a complete surprise to her. She knew he’d been seeing that slut. Despite what he thought, she had friends too. Friends that he didn’t know that dined in the same nice restaurants. She vaguely recalled once meeting her at his firm’s christmas party, she seemed nice enough- perhaps too flirty around him, but he was an attractive man. She knew though. She knew what was going on, and even if they hadn’t started their sordid little affair at that point, she knew it was going to happen sooner or later. She hoped to God that it didn’t. She hoped to God that he’d manage to stop himself, but it seemed that God had stopped listening to her, so what could she do but wait for it to happen, and deal with it at the time.

So it had happened. She didn’t say anything at the time, what would have been the point? They would have argued, they’d have fought, she would have driven him into her arms, and then all would be lost.

Of course, she blamed herself for it. If she had been a more attentive wife, instead of trying to be a perfect mother, perhaps his head would never have been turned. If she’d have offered all the she had, and more, this would never have happened. And so, on nights when was away on business, she would lay in bed and cry herself to sleep, huge sobs that left her without breath, fearful that he would not come home again, that he had finally found the resolve to leave her. But that day never came. After only several weeks of the uncertainty, he had come home, and the way he held her told her that she was safe once more.

But here they were again, in the very same situation they had been in before. Only this time she hadn’t seen it coming. Oh no, he’d been very good at keeping his thoughts and emotions in check. He wanted to think things through in his mind, he wanted to be sure that what he was doing was the right thing. He hadn’t embarked on an affair, not this time, he knew that he would only end up fucking it up again, and coming back through a misplaced sense of loyalty. He had gotten extremely close to her this time. She was younger, by some margin, but it didn’t matter, because age was irrelevant at his age. It was thoughts and experiences that were important to him now, and she had plenty of both. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure that she even loved him, but she was his muse of sorts. He knew they got on well, and it had cleared his eyes for him. He had been bogged down in a conventional marriage for too long now, and whether she wanted him or not, it was a good chance for him to escape.

But he was faced with a problem. He didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with her. And so all of his calculations of the possible outcomes were based on assumptions. Despite everything, he at least had a secure life at the moment. He knew that his wife still loved him, she loved him dearly, as did his sons, his most proud achievements. And these were what had stopped him leaving sooner. In some respects he resented them, although he realised exactly how foolish that was. They had only been married for six months when she fell pregnant with the eldest, and the second had come four years later, fourteen and ten respectively, and they were dictating his life without them even realising. And yes, he did resent them. If they hadn’t come along, he would have been long gone, but he hung around because that’s what you’re supposed to do isn’t it? You’re supposed to stay together for the kids, no matter how loveless your marriage, because that’s what happens. The kids grow up happy and well adjusted, and you can be proud that you made them what they are. It doesn’t matter that inside you’re screaming.

But now, now it was different. The boys were getting older. They would surely understand about the concept of love, and how it’s not always straightforward. Sometimes people fall out of love. They would be upset, that was for certain- as far as he could tell, they had no suspicions, Mum and Dad were still happy enough. The thought of telling them was the one thing that was killing him. He knew his wife would be upset if he left, but when it came down to it, they didn’t really owe each other anything. He would pay his share towards the kids, they could sell the house and start afresh. But telling the boys wouldn’t be so easy. He was aware that what was in his mind had the potential to destroy his relationship with them, which, although not Hollywood perfect, was still pretty steady. He took them to the football every now and then, gave them their pocket money and helped with their homework when he could, but all of that could be irreparably damaged if they chose to see that he was about to betray and upset their mother, who they doted on. And that was what worried him most.

Of course, things weren’t right, she was starting to suspect that he was lusting after another woman again. It seemed that nothing she could do was enough to keep him. Well, if that was the case, then she was damn well not going to get an overhaul and become a Stepford wife just to keep him. She was sick of it, and she was starting to snap. She didn’t know what the hell he wanted from her. She cooked his dinner every day, she kept his house clean and tidy, making sure that all of his shirts were washed and ironed. She did everything for that bastard, and she was getting tired. What was the old saying, ‘You should be a goddess in the kitchen, and a slut in bedroom’, well, she’d tried, but she just wasn’t as into sex as he was. She enjoyed the intimacy, whereas he wanted things to be as kinky as he could get her to do. She liked making love with the light off because it accentuated the feeling, and made it more erotic, whereas he wanted the lights on so that he could see what porn moves he was pulling. She had never been interested in anal, but she had given it a go for him. She hated it, it hurt like hell and was pretty much the most degrading thing she’d ever done, and he KNEW that, but still he wanted it. She knew she didn’t have the best figure in the world- Christ, she’d borne two bloody children, how was she supposed to look like a supermodel? But still he insisted that she dress up in slutty underwear, which she only did for him, to keep him happy.

And it seemed that none of that was worth a damn to him.

And it seemed that nothing he thought was worth damn to her.

So he stood up, and without a word grabbed a suitcase. She sat there in silence while he stuffed his clothes into the case. He spoke only once before he left- to confirm that he was sorry for how things had turned out, and that he hoped she understood. He promised that he would call in the morning to speak to the children, turned, and left.

She sat on the bed, listening until she could no longer hear his car engine. She got up and walked into the boys bedrooms, tucked them in gently and kissed them both so very tenderly on their foreheads, and went back into her room. She put on her pyjamas, turned out the light, sank into her bed- a bed that seemed bigger tonight than it had ever been- and stared at the ceiling. There were no tears tonight.

They would come, she knew that.

But not tonight.