The Wife By Tony Sussex
I had thought I had everything I needed for a guy my age. I’ve got the house in the country, the big car, the nice suits, and the wife. Well, I say I’ve got the wife, but after this afternoon, I’m not quite sure about that now.
I first caught a glimpse of her at a party, about eighteen months ago. Of course, she wasn’t the wife then, she was just – well, I’ll not tell you her name, if you don’t mind. I’ll just call her the wife for now.
She was talking to a friend of hers, and they were both laughing heartily at something which I suspect wasn’t really that funny. I suppose they were just trying to attract attention. Well, it worked for me. I noticed her straight away; her long, slightly unruly black hair; her green eyes, and her slender, graceful figure, beautifully outlined in an expensive scarlet dress. She had something of the Italian about her; exciting, dangerous, full of dance.
I felt myself being drawn towards her, as if I was standing at the top of a downward escalator, and undecided as to whether I should take that first step. There would be no going back. My heart was beating a little faster, my hands began to sweat. The urge became irresistible, and I so I took that step. That’s why I am where I am now, and it’s why she is where she is.
We had been together for a year. It was breathless, exciting, sometimes dangerous, but just a few hours ago, after a long talk about our future together, she got out of bed, and walked out of the door. I can feel the ache as I realise now that she may never be coming back.
I am, I suppose, what most people think of as a success. I run my own company, I have a degree from a "good" university, and although I’m not on the Times’ Rich List, I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to pay my bills. I employ a dozen people, and can be hard when I need to be. Only last month I had to sack somebody because they were persistently late for work. It didn’t go well; the woman pleaded with me that she needed the money, and there were tears. But I can't run my business for the convenience of other people.
So you will see that I’m no pushover. I had everything a man could want. Except, of course, a wife. Because if there's one area where it could be said of me that I am not a success, it's with women.
I was subjected to an all boys school, and consequently never mixed with the opposite sex until I was seventeen or so. Neither was I sporty or athletic. In fact, most of my classmates thought I was a bit of a nerd. The best thing that can be said about my looks is that I have all the right features in all the right places. But if the lads at school could have seen me with the wife, they would change their opinion, that's for sure. But now of course, that may never happen. A tragedy, that, because I never really felt as if my life was complete until I met her.
At first, I never thought that ours was going to be one of the great romances. We seemed to be so different, but the more I saw her, the more I knew that I had to see her again. In the end, I could do nothing without her. Everything became a chore unless she was with me, even things that I really used to enjoy; football, cinema, reading and music. Especially music. There wasn’t a love song written that didn’t have something to say to me or the wife.
Soon after the party, I asked her out to lunch. I can still feel the lurch of excitement when she said yes, she'd come. I have an image in my mind of her almost running towards me through the crowds on a winter's afternoon, seeming pleased to see me, but maybe a little nervous. I must have grinned at her like an idiot, but I was overwhelmed at how beautiful this woman was, and not quite believing that she was here with me.
We had lunch at a small, fairly intimate restaurant, during which the conversation flowed easily - once I stopped behaving like a love-struck teenager. There was an almost palpable energy between us. At one point, the weak winter sunshine streamed in through the window and fell softly on her face. It made me feel vulnerable, as if this was all too good to be true and surely this beautiful woman would leave at any second.
But she didn't leave. At least, not then. We went on to a pub and as the drinks began to take effect, I eventually summoned up the courage to kiss her. For all that we had been getting on so well, I fully expected her to slap me in the face. But she didn't. In fact, she seemed relieved. Perhaps she thought I was never going to get around to it. But the relief didn't last long.
We saw each other about once a week at first. We would go to the cinema, or for walks out in the country. We never went anywhere busy, as we wanted time on our own and company wasn't welcome.
One afternoon, we got on a train to go out of town. It was a midweek lunchtime, when most people we know should have been at work. We behaved like children when we got into the carriage, sitting next to each other - of course - and laughing at ridiculous things, like the ticket collector's accent, the headline on a newspaper, a fellow passenger's hat.
But then she noticed the person who was wearing the hat and she changed in an instant. We had been pressing our thighs together under the table - lust was still a big driver in our relationship, after all - but she shifted away from me and abruptly stopped laughing.
I couldn't work out why at first, but soon realised that she had seen somebody she knew and of course she didn't want to be noticed. I was angry at her attitude, which didn't help the situation at all. She spent the rest of the journey on the edge of tears and after that I didn't see her for almost a month.
Eventually, she rang me. I had tried to contact her but she never answered her home phone, and her mobile was switched off. We had agreed that I was never to go round to her house, so when she did ring me I was elated. She said she'd had "a bit of a day" on that train journey and didn't know if she wanted to see me again. The rest of that conversation's a blur, with her in tears, me in a blind panic. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. Well, not towards her, anyway.
You see, I call her "the wife" because that's what she is. It's just that, well, she's not my wife. She's somebody else's. I can't be seen in public with her where our friends might turn up, I can't buy her presents, I can't do any of the normal "couples together" things. I can't even tell you her name. But I have no choice in this, right or wrong doesn't come into it. I love her, and that's all that matters.
You will gather that we did see each other after that phone conversation, but this afternoon, she left me lying here in bed and went back to her husband. We'd made love, and in the after guilt had a long talk about where we were going. I am not ashamed to admit that I wanted her to leave her husband, move in with me and I would guarantee that we would be happy. Her response - the last thing she said to me - was that "we can't build our happiness on someone else's misery." Then she left.
I get out of bed and go into the kitchen. The place is a mess, with bags and containers from last night's takeaway littering the kitchen tops. We had a wild night last night, she was more passionate than she had been in a long time. Now, as I stand here alone, I think she may have been saying goodbye.
I put the television on for company, for the house is too quiet without her. I need a distraction, but nothing I try works. I feel so empty, but I'm not hungry. The TV is showing cooking programmes, something that she loved to watch. Especially where there are judges who criticise everything that is put in front of them, and use ingenious ways to insult the contestants. She always laughed at those.
I turn the TV off, and pace about. How to deal with this? Of course, she's left before, but this seems so... final. Before, if I tried to broach the subject of a future together, she would grow distant, or change the subject. Now it feels like she's had enough of those conversations, and has called an end to it all.
Don't judge me. If you are thinking "he deserves this," then I will presume you have never been in this situation. And if that's the case, you can't understand how it feels to have lost all hope, to feel that your life is colourless, without meaning, so you can't judge. For me there is no right or wrong. Just a future with the wife, or... nothing.
Then there's a noise in the hallway. My stomach lurches as I realise it's the key in the lock. I almost run into the hall, and there she is. She drops a suitcase, full of the clothes that were in the house that she shared with him, and her eyes are wet.
I ask her if she's told him. She bites her lip and nods, afraid to speak.
I hold her to me and she cries, hard, her tears falling on my shoulder as I hold her like I will never let her go again. Because, believe me, despite all the storms that are heading our way, I won't.
Juliette. Her name is Juliette.
Copyright Tony Sussex 2011
http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/22747/the-wife to download free to Kindle / iPhone etc
I first caught a glimpse of her at a party, about eighteen months ago. Of course, she wasn’t the wife then, she was just – well, I’ll not tell you her name, if you don’t mind. I’ll just call her the wife for now.
She was talking to a friend of hers, and they were both laughing heartily at something which I suspect wasn’t really that funny. I suppose they were just trying to attract attention. Well, it worked for me. I noticed her straight away; her long, slightly unruly black hair; her green eyes, and her slender, graceful figure, beautifully outlined in an expensive scarlet dress. She had something of the Italian about her; exciting, dangerous, full of dance.
I felt myself being drawn towards her, as if I was standing at the top of a downward escalator, and undecided as to whether I should take that first step. There would be no going back. My heart was beating a little faster, my hands began to sweat. The urge became irresistible, and I so I took that step. That’s why I am where I am now, and it’s why she is where she is.
We had been together for a year. It was breathless, exciting, sometimes dangerous, but just a few hours ago, after a long talk about our future together, she got out of bed, and walked out of the door. I can feel the ache as I realise now that she may never be coming back.
I am, I suppose, what most people think of as a success. I run my own company, I have a degree from a "good" university, and although I’m not on the Times’ Rich List, I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to pay my bills. I employ a dozen people, and can be hard when I need to be. Only last month I had to sack somebody because they were persistently late for work. It didn’t go well; the woman pleaded with me that she needed the money, and there were tears. But I can't run my business for the convenience of other people.
So you will see that I’m no pushover. I had everything a man could want. Except, of course, a wife. Because if there's one area where it could be said of me that I am not a success, it's with women.
I was subjected to an all boys school, and consequently never mixed with the opposite sex until I was seventeen or so. Neither was I sporty or athletic. In fact, most of my classmates thought I was a bit of a nerd. The best thing that can be said about my looks is that I have all the right features in all the right places. But if the lads at school could have seen me with the wife, they would change their opinion, that's for sure. But now of course, that may never happen. A tragedy, that, because I never really felt as if my life was complete until I met her.
At first, I never thought that ours was going to be one of the great romances. We seemed to be so different, but the more I saw her, the more I knew that I had to see her again. In the end, I could do nothing without her. Everything became a chore unless she was with me, even things that I really used to enjoy; football, cinema, reading and music. Especially music. There wasn’t a love song written that didn’t have something to say to me or the wife.
Soon after the party, I asked her out to lunch. I can still feel the lurch of excitement when she said yes, she'd come. I have an image in my mind of her almost running towards me through the crowds on a winter's afternoon, seeming pleased to see me, but maybe a little nervous. I must have grinned at her like an idiot, but I was overwhelmed at how beautiful this woman was, and not quite believing that she was here with me.
We had lunch at a small, fairly intimate restaurant, during which the conversation flowed easily - once I stopped behaving like a love-struck teenager. There was an almost palpable energy between us. At one point, the weak winter sunshine streamed in through the window and fell softly on her face. It made me feel vulnerable, as if this was all too good to be true and surely this beautiful woman would leave at any second.
But she didn't leave. At least, not then. We went on to a pub and as the drinks began to take effect, I eventually summoned up the courage to kiss her. For all that we had been getting on so well, I fully expected her to slap me in the face. But she didn't. In fact, she seemed relieved. Perhaps she thought I was never going to get around to it. But the relief didn't last long.
We saw each other about once a week at first. We would go to the cinema, or for walks out in the country. We never went anywhere busy, as we wanted time on our own and company wasn't welcome.
One afternoon, we got on a train to go out of town. It was a midweek lunchtime, when most people we know should have been at work. We behaved like children when we got into the carriage, sitting next to each other - of course - and laughing at ridiculous things, like the ticket collector's accent, the headline on a newspaper, a fellow passenger's hat.
But then she noticed the person who was wearing the hat and she changed in an instant. We had been pressing our thighs together under the table - lust was still a big driver in our relationship, after all - but she shifted away from me and abruptly stopped laughing.
I couldn't work out why at first, but soon realised that she had seen somebody she knew and of course she didn't want to be noticed. I was angry at her attitude, which didn't help the situation at all. She spent the rest of the journey on the edge of tears and after that I didn't see her for almost a month.
Eventually, she rang me. I had tried to contact her but she never answered her home phone, and her mobile was switched off. We had agreed that I was never to go round to her house, so when she did ring me I was elated. She said she'd had "a bit of a day" on that train journey and didn't know if she wanted to see me again. The rest of that conversation's a blur, with her in tears, me in a blind panic. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. Well, not towards her, anyway.
You see, I call her "the wife" because that's what she is. It's just that, well, she's not my wife. She's somebody else's. I can't be seen in public with her where our friends might turn up, I can't buy her presents, I can't do any of the normal "couples together" things. I can't even tell you her name. But I have no choice in this, right or wrong doesn't come into it. I love her, and that's all that matters.
You will gather that we did see each other after that phone conversation, but this afternoon, she left me lying here in bed and went back to her husband. We'd made love, and in the after guilt had a long talk about where we were going. I am not ashamed to admit that I wanted her to leave her husband, move in with me and I would guarantee that we would be happy. Her response - the last thing she said to me - was that "we can't build our happiness on someone else's misery." Then she left.
I get out of bed and go into the kitchen. The place is a mess, with bags and containers from last night's takeaway littering the kitchen tops. We had a wild night last night, she was more passionate than she had been in a long time. Now, as I stand here alone, I think she may have been saying goodbye.
I put the television on for company, for the house is too quiet without her. I need a distraction, but nothing I try works. I feel so empty, but I'm not hungry. The TV is showing cooking programmes, something that she loved to watch. Especially where there are judges who criticise everything that is put in front of them, and use ingenious ways to insult the contestants. She always laughed at those.
I turn the TV off, and pace about. How to deal with this? Of course, she's left before, but this seems so... final. Before, if I tried to broach the subject of a future together, she would grow distant, or change the subject. Now it feels like she's had enough of those conversations, and has called an end to it all.
Don't judge me. If you are thinking "he deserves this," then I will presume you have never been in this situation. And if that's the case, you can't understand how it feels to have lost all hope, to feel that your life is colourless, without meaning, so you can't judge. For me there is no right or wrong. Just a future with the wife, or... nothing.
Then there's a noise in the hallway. My stomach lurches as I realise it's the key in the lock. I almost run into the hall, and there she is. She drops a suitcase, full of the clothes that were in the house that she shared with him, and her eyes are wet.
I ask her if she's told him. She bites her lip and nods, afraid to speak.
I hold her to me and she cries, hard, her tears falling on my shoulder as I hold her like I will never let her go again. Because, believe me, despite all the storms that are heading our way, I won't.
Juliette. Her name is Juliette.
Copyright Tony Sussex 2011
http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/22747/the-wife to download free to Kindle / iPhone etc