I had forgotten I’d agreed Jake would come round and discuss the situation. Since I’d found him with Neeta, I’d done little except cry and sleep; sleep due to exhaustion. I’d hardly eaten; just a few biscuits. The post was still on the mat. I had no interest in whatever it contained. My life no longer had meaning. There was nothing to look forward to, and of the memories, only the most recent could be recalled, and these were the most bitter.
I didn’t understand what it was when the door bell rang. It seemed as though it was somewhere in the distance; somewhere totally outside my world. It was only when it rang for the third occasion that I connected it with me. Blearily, I made my way to the door.
Jake was carrying his suitcase and marched in as I opened the door. “About bloody time,” he said sarcastically as he pushed past me and dumped the suitcase at the foot of the stairs. “God, you look awful. And you smell. Get me a cup of tea and then sort yourself out.” Like an automaton, I went into the kitchen. Slowly it dawned on me that Jake was moving back in. Not so slowly, my anger began to rise and the virtual stupor I’d been in dissipated in an instant.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded as I went back to the living room where Jake had plonked himself down in his usual chair and turned the TV on. He was of the opinion we’d agreed he could come back on the Friday and this was Friday. “I said we’d talk about it.”
“I’ve got nowhere else to go. This is my house, so I’m coming back. There’s nothing to talk about.” He looked smug. Sitting in his chair he assumed it was a fait-accompli.
“You’re right about one thing,” I almost shouted at him, “there is nothing to talk about.” I opened the front door, picked up his suitcase and threw it onto the driveway. I was surprised at the ease with which I had thrown it. Anger can give you strength you never knew you had. “Now, get out. This is my house! Do you understand, mine!? Get out and stay out.” He complained he had nowhere to go. “You can sleep in the gutter for all I care. In fact, that’s where you deserve to be.”
“What are you getting your knickers in a twist for?” he asked, trying to sound reasonable now. “It’s no big deal. I’m not short changing you, am I? Tell me, when have you’ve ever gone wanting? Have you ever even hinted you weren’t being satisfied?” I was still seething. He took my failure to reply as agreement. “Never, eh? So why should you get upset?” He looked more self assured, almost cocky. He’d defused the situation, or so he assumed.
“’Forsaking all others’,” I quoted “or don’t you remember your wedding vows?”
“One little mistake and you go act as though I’ve committed murder. Once, that’s all it was. Once. You’d throw away all we had for one mistake? Don’t I deserve another chance? Don’t we deserve to try again?” He was trying to be conciliatory, but failed miserably.
“Marriage is based on trust. You destroyed that trust. You hurt me. Here.” I was in full swing now as I thumped my heart. “I won’t let you hurt me, ever again. Now get out.” He must have seen my anger and was fearful for it. He almost jumped out of the chair and ran to the door.
“Please, Rusty. Give me one more chance. Let me stay here, at least until I find myself some digs.” He was whining and I was in no mood to give in. I shouted to him to get out and he went, picking up his suitcase on the way.
As I shut the door, I was shaking. I’m not normally so forceful and it was difficult for me to maintain my anger. I sat down, my head in my hands and tears welling up again. Should I have forgiven him? Despite what had happened, I was missing him. Or was I just missing his presence in my bed? It was big and empty and with no one to cuddle, it was lonely. Once again, I was feeling very sorry for myself. Once again I ignored the phone calls from my mother. I slept fitfully again that night.